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A SEARCH FOR PHILIP. 


Philip Leicester 



JESSIE e/wRIGHT. x, I' - ■ 

" i ' W " 

Author of “ Freshman and Senior,” “ Marjori- 

BANKS,” ETC. 

R IGw * ~ 


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i SEP 10 1894 






H o 'l W ~> 2 >. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


BOSTON, U. S. A. 

W. A. WILDE & COMPANY, 

25 Bromfield Street. 



\ 






Copyright, 1894, 

BY 

W. A. Wilde & Co. 

All rights reserved. 


|3.-.4-o4tS 


CONTENTS 


PAGE. 

Chapter I. — A Very King 5 

Chapter II.— In the Cowgate 20 

Chapter III. — Tony 30 

Chapter IY. — Gladys 48 

Ch t Apter Y. — Behind the Scenes 66 

Chapter YL— Some Other Philip T9 

Chapter YII. — A New Friend 96 

Chapter YIII. — A Difficult Question .... 114 

Chapter IX. — Out of Show Life 130 

Chapter X.— Aboard the “Queen” 148 

Chapter XI. — Lloyd 165 

Chapter XII. — Tony’s Pledge 181 

Chapter XIII. — A Boy Nurse 197 

Chapter XIY. — A King Again 214 

Chapter XY. — All Together 226 

Chapter XYI. — A Place for Tony 249 

Chapter XYII. — Thanksgiving 258 


3 









- 

































PHILIP LEICESTER. 


CHAPTER I. 

A VERY KING. 

He was a nice baby, just the nicest baby in 
the world ; three months old, and so big, and 
strong, and bright that everybody thought he 
was at least three months older. 

The sunshine was streaming through the long 
windows in the drawing-room of the Leicesters’ 
lodgings in Russell Square, London. Mrs. 
Leicester sat in a low rocking-chair, right in 
the sunshine, with Philip in her lap. She was 
admiring him. She spent a large share of her 
time admiring him. He had such wonderful 
little feet and hands — not so very little, either ; 
and he had such a soft, smooth, warm little 
face, and his hair was already so lovely, such sun- 
shiny, soft, curling hair — everybody spoke of 


6 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


it; and his eyes were already such a beautiful 
color, and he already had such long eyelashes 
and so dark. She always noticed his eyelashes 
particularly, because they were like his father’s, 
and for the rest he was emphatically her boy, 
or so people said. She had only to look in the 
glass to see hair and eyes very much like the 
baby’s on her lap. But what was the very 
nicest about him was his astonishingly satisfy- 
ing way of talking, such good pleased noises, 
such nice little chuckles and grunts ; and then 
the way he could laugh — no colicky smiles 
those. And strong — his father used to feel 
his muscle every day, and say, “ Muscle, now 
— how’s that for muscle?” 

Mrs. Leicester rubbed the baby’s legs, while 
he laughed, and she rubbed his arms while he 
laughed more still, and she tousled his nice little 
hair, and kissed his fat little neck, and his hands, 
and his feet, and all the rest of him, and he 
goo’d and gurgled to distraction. 

There was a knock at the door. “ Come in, 
Katy ; is that you ? ” as the door opened and a 


A VERY KING. 


7 


bright-faced girl of sixteen entered — a girl 
somewhat stunted from overwork. 

“ There, now, Katy, you are nearer ready 
than I am, for all you had so much to do. Is 
Betty ready ? ” 

“ Yes, ma’am ; she’s been in the window-seat 
this long time, has Betty.” 

“ Well, I’ll soon have Philip all ready. Mr. 
Leicester will be here in a few minutes now, 
probably,” and the habiting Philip in his out- 
door garments went on vigorously. “ There — 
you’re so sweet — kiss your mother. Haven’t 
even sense enough to kiss your mother. I 
meant you to be the nicest, cleanest, sweetest 
baby on earth, and you certainly are. Now be- 
have yourself ! Let me tie your cap. You are 
going riding in Regents Park with Katy and 
Betty. Katy had better take good care of you, 
too, tell her that ! Your mother doesn’t want 
you with a broken back, or any of those things 
you weren’t meant to have.” 

Katy stood looking on, smiling. She had 
often begged their American lodger to let her 


8 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


wheel the baby alone, but Mrs. Leicester had 
always accompanied her. Now the Leicesters 
were to spend the morning at St. Stephen’s 
Club, and Mrs. Leicester had agreed to let Katy 
wheel Philip to the park. Katy had engineered 
the five of her mother’s children younger than 
herself successfully through the trials of baby- 
hood, and she felt a very superior interest in 
this young American lady’s zeal for her first- 
born. Babies had been Katy’s portion since 
she could walk alone, and she felt like an ex- 
pert. 

“ Now, Philip, are you going to be a splen- 
did boy ? Yes ; that’s it ; yes, I know you are. 
I hear your father. There, Katy, take the 
robe. Now, sir, down you go.” 

Philip was deposited in his carriage, with a 
vast deal of arranging. Betty was brought up 
from the basement window-seat, and stood 
solemnly beside the carriage. Philip was kissed 
good-by, and Mr. Leicester stood in the door by 
his wife, watching the little procession move 
off. 


A VERY KING. 


9 


“ You are so sensible,” he said contentedly to 
his wife. 44 You are as sensible as you are in- 
fatuated. Isn’t he nice ? ” 

44 If anything were to happen to him we 
wouldn’t think it so sensible. Yes, just isn't 
he nice ? ” she answered, with a laugh. 

Mr. Leicester was a young American lawyer, 
most fortunately, as he considered it, called to 
London on business. 

Mrs. Leicester had been in London before, 
and was now spending the greater part of her 
time with her baby, as she would have done at 
home, though Katy, the landlady’s daughter, 
was nominally officiating as a baby tender. 

Katy walked gaily on in the sunshine toward 
Regents Park, easing the carriage over the 
stones, pointing out objects of interest to Betty, 
letting her help push the carriage, or straight- 
ening her lop-sided bonnet, shaking a rattle at 
Philip to make him laugh, and otherwise hav- 
ing what was for poor Katy a very giddy and 
hilarious time. The streets, some of them, 
were very quiet at that time in the morning. 


10 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


The steps, and sidewalks, and areas had all been 
cleaned, the milk and bread left long ago, and 
the dinner orders were not yet being sent in. 
Everything was very quiet and peaceful. 

Crossing an alley, while Katy was giving her 
attention to guiding the carriage, Betty stum- 
bled and fell. She began to scream, and after 
Katy had safely rested the carriage, she turned 
to rescue her. She picked her up, petted her, 
brushed off her dress and her bare knees, 
straightened again the lop-sided bonnet, and 
encouraged her to continue crossing the alley 
to the carriage. 

She leaned over to pull up the robe over 
Philip — but there was no Philip there ! She 
could not believe it, and mechanically put her 
hand on the seat. She looked over the carriage 
to the pavement. Then a dim realization that 
the baby was really not there came over her, 
and she screamed, a wild, piercing scream. 
Windows were put up suspiciously. People 
came to the door. Katy screamed louder and 
longer, and wrung her hands. 


A VERY KING. 


11 


“ He’s gone ! The baby’s gone ! He’s gone ! ” 

With confused questions and answers, the 
simple story was elicited. 

“ Americans ! ” “ Three months ! ” “ Here’s 
a policeman!” “Lot of money?” “Can’t 
be far ! ” “ Only two or three minutes — must 
be right near here ! ” “ Oh, you’ll have the 

baby before the mother gets back ! ” “ Give 
the policeman your address and go home before 
you lose the other one.” “ Oh, that baby will 
be back in an hour ! ” 

Katy went stumbling home, weeping bit- 
terly, and seeing just one picture all the 
while ; not Philip ; not Mrs. Leicester’s grief ; 
not her own family’s horror. No, just a picture 
of Mrs. Leicester as she stood in the door that 
morning saying good-by. Katy hadn’t thought 
anything about it then — it seemed years and 
years ago — but now she saw her so plainly, as 
she stood with the old black door for a back- 
ground, the golden lights in her hair, her happy 
eyes, the smiling, beautiful lips, the gracious- 
ness, the beauty of her figure. 


12 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


When Mrs. Leicester returned to the house 
and opened the great dark door, she heard the 
most unwonted sounds — sounds of crying and 
reproaches. The baby’s carriage stood in the 
hall, and she went into the nearest room to take 
him. An appalled silence fell on the group as 
she entered. Then Katy gave one shriek of 
despair and dropped on the sofa, holding her 
head in her hands. 

Mrs. Leicester was very pale. She knew 
something was the matter. In a low, quiet, 
but terribly tense voice, she said, “ Where is 
Philip, Katy?” 

“ They’ll find him, indeed,” groaned Katy. 
“ He’ll be here right away, they said. He was 
took right out of the baby carriage. Oh, I’ll 
never know how it happened.” 

The story was easily enough told. It was 
no story at all. Mrs. Leicester thought in a 
numb way that she had read all about it in a 
newspaper when she was little. 

The detectives came, of course, and the chief 
tried to discover something that would identify 


A VERY KING. 


13 


the child, but there was nothing ; the spotless 
fairness of his skin, which had proved such a 
source of gratification to his mother and father, 
was now a matter for regret. There was no 
curious mole, nor proper mark, nor anything 
such as a child ought to have who means to be 
lost. 

The description of the child, which seemed 
to Mrs. Leicester sufficiently accurate and char- 
acteristic, and certainly unusual for his age, 
seemed to the detective applicable to any num- 
ber of children. 

Mr. Leicester felt as though everything was 
against them after the first day. As the child 
had not been traced then, he believed that there 
was almost nothing to secure success later ; but 
this very conviction seemed to give him a sort 
of heroism of despair. It seemed as though he 
must conquer all these things that were against 
him, as though gigantic effort must in itself 
accomplish what otherwise would be impossible. 

That was where it hurt to be young, to be 
new in his profession, to be comparatively with- 


14 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


out money — money, when he needed thou- 
sands, millions — nothing was enough if it 
could not bring back that baby. 

All they had should be spent ; and all they 
had was spent. Life was like a nightmare. 
For a week there were constant reports that the 
baby had been traced, had been found. Hope 
was at its strongest then, at the first, and 
in the midst of the grief, and dumbness, and 
aching sense of loss, there was this unreason- 
ing leaping of the heart at any good news, the 
sure faith that Philip was found — would be 
found — must be found. It was better that 
way. But when several babies had been 
brought in with loud trumpetings of victory, 
not one of whom bore the faintest resemblance 
in any essential points to Philip Leicester, hope 
made room for a vague, haunting fear that 
Philip was gone — gone forever. As time wore 
on Mr. Leicester found that the sight of Mrs. 
Leicester’s struggle against breaking down, the 
sight of her restless eyes, her continued pale- 
ness, her hard efforts for patience and self-con- 


A VERY KING. 


15 


trol, was more agonizing than the suspense 
about Philip. 

He could not stand it. 

And their money was all gone. What money 
he had or could borrow was as nothing to the 
task before them. It had come to a pass of 
staying and starving. 

She was very patient — Mrs. Leicester. She 
offered no objection to the seemingly forced 
conclusion that they must return to the United 
States. 

“ Only for more money,” Mr. Leicester said, 
for though hope had left him, it was replaced by 
a dogged determination to find out something, 
one way or the other, if it took his whole life- 
time to do it. 

“Wasn’t there anything about Philip, any- 
thing peculiar at all?” urged the chief of detec- 
tives for the twentieth time. 

“No,” said Mrs. Leicester sadly, “ nothing at 
all, except what I have told you. I often 
noticed that his left hand was absurdly like 
mine, the tip of the third finger being so much 


16 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


more slender than the others, and the nail, as 
you see, quite unlike the others, and there was 
a funny little crease back of each ear ; that, I 
suppose, might change, only his father has a 
crease exactly like it, and there is just a possi- 
bility that when he gets his second teeth he 
might have quite a peculiarity. It is hardly 
likely, though.” 

“What is that?” asked the chief, whipping 
out his memorandum book. 

“ One of the double teeth on my lower jaw, 
right side, never came in ; and my mother and 
her mother were the same way. But I had a 
brother who had the proper number.” 

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t anything, in fact. 

Mr. Leicester tried to assume a courage he 
did not feel. But it was bitter work. 

“ Oh, if I could only know he was dead ! ” 
said Mrs. Leicester that night before they left 
London. She had been walking restlessly up 
and down the room, looking at all the things 
she had recklessly given him for playthings, at 
the rug where she used to lay him before the 


A VERY KING. 


IT 


open fire to kick, at the particular chair she 
used most often to hold him in. 

“ Don’t you believe,” said Mr. Leicester, his 
head between his hands, his elbows on his 
knees, “ that God can and will take care of him 
as well away from us as with us ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t believe it ! I can’t believe it ! 
I have gone over it and over it. I have no faith 
to cover this. I know I could have stood his 
death, and even, it seems to me now, have 
thanked God, for I would have felt that our 
baby was then even doubly ours, that other 
children might come, and grow up, and have 
other ties, and belong more dearly, as would be 
right, to others ; but that our Philip would be 
ours through all eternity. I could have felt 
that way. And I can feel now that if Philip 
lives and grows up, that, bad, or wicked, or worn, 
or hopeless, God will keep his covenant of 
mercy, and that somehow, somewhere, he will 
know and feel the grace of God. But, oh, it 
isn’t enough. I want to believe that he will 
grow up good, that he will not have to be forced 


18 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


into sin, and wickedness, and misery. Look at 
this London. Oh, if he only had been lost at 
home — even that would have been a little bet- 
ter. This wicked, miserable, horrible London ! 
These children on the streets — what chance is 
there for them ? It is a miracle, one of God’s 
miracles, if one of them escapes.” 

She had been walking, walking up and down, 
pausing, talking, again pausing ; she stood be- 
fore the window, looking out into the darkness 
but poorly illuminated by the street lamps. 

“ How can I believe ? Here I have thought 
so much, and planned so much, and hoped so 
much. I have thought how, by heredity and 
training, he would be so gladly open to all 
Christian influence that he would have a natural 
love for right from the very start ; but how can 
he hear unless he be taught ? ” 

“ Perhaps it is so ; perhaps it will be just that 
way now. It is hard to believe that he could 
live a great while in this country without hear- 
ing something that you would have taught him. 
Perhaps there is enough in what you say to 


A VERY KING. 


19 


warrant our believing that God’s mercy has 
already been shown to him in the greatest possi- 
ble way, so that any little chance will be to him 
enough ; that his tendency to right, his inborn 
desire for the good, and pure, and true — if it 
is as you believe — will help him grasp for good 
all that comes in his way, however pitifully in- 
adequate it might seem to us.” 

“ Oh, why haven’t I a strong faith ? ” was the 
despairing answer. 


CHAPTER II. 

IN THE COWGATE. 

One evening, soon after the Leicesters’ arrival 
in London, Mrs. Leicester had noticed a woman, 
a pale, forlorn little woman, standing idly by a 
crossing. She noticed her as she noticed so 
many more, with a quick, irrepressible longing 
to do something to help her ; but she seemed to 
be one of thousands. And yet it was that 
woman who was to cross the Leicesters’ lives so 
terribly. 

When Katie stopped to comfort the crying 
Betty, a woman — this woman — known down 
St. Pancras as Half-wit Sal — passed the 
carriage. Philip stretched up his little arms to 
her. Her thin, watchful, wistful face became 
suddenly radiant with happiness. She lifted 
the baby out swiftly and tenderly, and sped like 
20 


IN THE COWGATE. 


21 


a shadow down one of the narrow, winding 
streets. 

There was only one thing that kept Half-wit 
Sal alive, and that was a wish to go to Scotland. 
Her tie to Scotland was a baby’s grave. To 
her darkened mind it seemed that if she could 
but reach that little grave her baby might 
come back to her ; that she would feel again its 
soft helplessness, the warm cheeks, the squirm- 
ing of the little body against her in the night. 
And wherever she went she was always looking 
for her baby ; looking to see its features, to hear 
its cry. 

When Philip stretched up his arms to her, 
she saw her baby ; the same face, hair, eyes. 
Her own puny, wailing, thin-faced baby, born 
in deep trouble and after weary wanderings, 
was remembered by her as all that Philip 
Leicester, the king of babies, actually was. 

She made her way back to Scotland, but she 
thought no more of the little grave she had 
pined for. Her baby was with her, growing 
more bright and loving every day. The way 


22 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


his dimpled hands stroked her face was an 
intoxication to her — those hands that his 
mother agonized for in the long slow watches 
of the night. And the musical baby’s voice 
learned to say mammy for this half-witted 
woman, when his own mother had never heard 
him form a word. 

Half-wit Sal’s previous experiences led her 
to prefer the name of Philip to any other, and 
Philip she called him — Philip, plain and 
straight. 

When he began to walk he was a royal sight ; 
his skin was of a fairness and clearness that 
even the dirt and neglect of the Cowgate could 
not seem to deteriorate ; he had a frank, direct 
glance that won all hearts, and a laugh that 
was a very tocsin of mirth. Compared with the 
other children around him, Philip had good care. 
Half-wit Sal grovelled before him ; she had but 
one idea, and that was Philip. He always knew 
what it was to be loved. She held him, and 
carried him, and watched over him in a very 
abandon of devotion. But the accessories, all 


IN THE COWGATE. 


23 


the thousand and one items which unite to 
make the law and the gospel for the intelligent 
mother of these later days, were so lacking, or 
so perverted, as to have convinced Mrs. Leices- 
ter, had she known all about it, that Philip 
could not have lived a week. But he lived 
and throve. Never a sick day, few of the ills 
that baby flesh is heir to. 

Tourists are fond of peering around the Cow- 
gate, and many a one went home carrying a 
vision of a golden-haired boy, whose eyes had 
lights in them like the sea itself, a vision to 
last when storied castles and historic streets 
had grown sadly indistinct. 

One lady watched him run down the pave- 
ment, followed by. his retainers, homely, hard- 
featured children of the gutter, who, one and all, 
combined to do homage to their youthful lord. 

“ What is your name, sir? ” asked the lady, 
stopping him, and looking earnestly at the 
happy little face ; the mouth with such sweet- 
ness and purity of outline as to have ravished 
an artist. 


24 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ Philip,” was the prompt reply. 

“ Mine’s Sandy,” put in another hoy eagerly, 
but he was unheard. 

“ How old are you, Philip ? ” 

“ Nigh to four, my mammy say.” 

“ Philip, my king,” she murmured, smiling. 

The children heard her and repeated it 
among themselves, and shouted it after him as 
they played, until finally he was called Philip 
King, as though it were his name. 

When Philip was four years old he formed 
the acquaintance of one Tony Kempton, then 
aged seven. 

Tony was vastly superior in interest to all of 
Philip’s other acquaintances, for Tony was the 
son of an indigent show manager, a purveyor 
of acrobatic performances, farces, and panto- 
mimes, all of a kind to be within the intellectual 
and financial range of an equally indigent por- 
tion of the population. And Tony himself 
was already far advanced in his training as an 
acrobat. 

Philip used to accompany him to the room 


IN THE COWGATE. 


25 


where the show was conducted, and there he 
was filled with admiration for his freckle-faced 
friend. He sympathized with him in all his 
falls and misfortunes ; he rejoiced exceedingly 
over his successes. Manager Kempton, per- 
ceiving the grace and beauty of the boy, and 
reflecting on his own success as a trainer, wished 
to incorporate the boy into his show. He en- 
deavored to bring Half-wit Sal to his own views 
in the matter, but she was singularly obtuse, 
and apparently quite incapable of listening to 
reason. When he had given up the arts of 
persuasion and had resolved to take the child, 
anyway — not believing that Sal had any greater 
claim on the child than he had, and not caring 
if she really had — the half-witted little woman 
took feebly to her bed, and after two days of 
wandering in her mind she died. During those 
two days Philip could not be out of her sight, 
and stayed beside her, patting her cheek and 
her thin, bony hands, sobbing sometimes, and 
sometimes singing softly to her, and saying, 
“ Philip’s mammy feel better — feel better 


26 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


soon.” But she died, and Philip followed her 
to her grave, sole mourner, and with a bit of 
crape pinned around his arm by a compas- 
sionate neighbor. 

When Philip returned from his first funeral, 
tear-stained and tired, the neighbors held a 
caucus over him ; but before they had reached 
any conclusion Manager Kempton appeared 
upon the scene, and with some plausibility 
asserted that, as a friend of his own boy’s and a 
“likely chiel,” he would take him to his show 
and bring him up to earn a good living. 

This seemed to settle the matter to the satis- 
faction of all but one woman, who had a 
liking for the child, but had no means of sub- 
stantially expressing it. Philip was led unre- 
sistingly to the show. There his friendship for 
Tony became further cemented under trying 
circumstances. Life in a show, in a down-at- 
the-heel, precarious, travelling show, is not the 
kind that most people would pick out as the 
best school for a child’s mental and moral 
development. Manager Kempton did not wish 


IN THE COWGATE. 


27 


to do his own boy or his new acquisition such 
bodily injury as to impair their show useful- 
ness, but a good many blows and unlimited 
cursing could be bestowed before culminating 
in sprains or breaks. And Manager Kempton 
was by nature and cultivation a most passionate 
man. 

He discovered that Philip never would make 
so good an acrobat as Tony. He would not 
pay for over-training ; but he was a wonderful 
card in his farces and pantomimes. 

After Philip had been advertised as “ Philip 
King Faro,” and had been paraded upon the 
stage in both sock and buskin, he proved an 
unprecedented draw; and the Kempton show 
so looked up in its financial affairs that the 
manager indulged more and more freely in old 
rye, and evolved plans for travelling with his 
prodigy, and piling up the shekels. In the 
meanwhile Philip’s invulnerably happy tempera- 
ment helped him over many a hard place, and 
his brightness and conciliatory disposition won 
him some favors. But the element which 


28 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


worked most largely for liis ease and safety 
emanated from his friend Tony. 

Ever since Philip had watched with round 
eyes his friend’s acrobatic performances, and 
Tony, in turn, had watched the little fellow’s 
smiles of approval, and had heard his wails of 
sympathy, Tony had felt bound to him by quite 
a slavish partisanship. 

Philip was to Tony all that he knew of 
beauty and of love. While Tony, at the 
mature age of seven, was for Philip the embodi- 
ment of all masculine qualities worthy of 
imitation ; strength, dexterity, independence, 
glibness of tongue, street lore, and show lore 
— all were Tony’s. 

And Philip’s mother, kneeling at night by 
the side of her brown-haired baby, her second 
boy, as he slept quietly in his crib, would cry 
to God for Philip, beg in agony of soul that He 
would keep him unharmed, untainted, keep 
him somewhere where he might grow good and 
true. Could she have seen Philip, surrounded 
by a very leprosy, so far as morals were con- 


IN THE COWGATE. 


29 


cerned, totally unacquainted with even the 
name of God, save as used in oaths, and then 
introduced to the scenes of the Kempton show, 
to the tender mercies of a man as thoroughly 
wicked as Kempton, to a boy as thoroughly bad 
as Tony, little as he was, she would not, could 
not, have believed that her prayers were either 
heard or answered. 


/ 


CHAPTER III. 

TONY. 

“ What yer speerin’ at me blither fur ? ” 
inquired Tony aggressively in his cockney 
Scotch, for his parents were Londoners, and his 
language- was a heterogeneous mixture of every- 
thing he had heard. 

The stranger who had stopped to look curi- 
ously at the five-year-old Philip replied indif- 
ferently, “ He’s no brother of yours. What’s 
your name, boy ? ” 

“ Philip.” 

“ Is this boy your brother ?” 

“ Are you me brither Tony ? ” 

“ ’Course I be ! Dinna ye ken that ? ” 

Then Philip nodded affirmatively to the man. 
“ What’s your father’s name ? ” 

“ Kempton ! ” struck in Tony, “ and he’ll 


30 


TONY. 


31 


break you’re head fur you gin you speer at his 
bairns ower lanor ! ” 

O 

Tony was thoroughly incensed by something 
in .the man’s manner. 

44 Come along with me, Philip, and I’ll buy 
you the most barley sugar you ever saw at one 
time.” 

Philip seemed ready to accept the induce- 
ment, provided Tony might also accompany him, 
but Tony refused flatly. 

44 Go ’long — git out of here — my father 
will show you ! Philip, dinna you speak to the 
loon again ! ” 

44 Come, Philip,” urged the man ; but Philip 
found no temptation in the offer of barley 
sugar if Tony thought little of it. 

Ivempton, hearing Tony’s angry voice, lounged 
out of the low door near by and scowlingly 
surveyed the scene. 

44 That is not your boy, I see,” said the man 
pointing to Philip. 

4 No : he’s my sister’s boy. What you 
want? ” 


32 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ I want him to come with me for a few 
moments until I talk with him. He is a fine 
boy.” 

“Well he ain’t goin’. Into the house, both 
of you ! ” and Kempton relieved himself of a 
few oaths, aimed at the stranger in particular 
and the state of things in general. The 
stranger walked away and almost forgot his 
interest in the course of the next few hours. 
He was a friend of one of the London detectives 
who was employed by the Leicesters in the 
search for Philip. He had heard the story, and 
the sight of Philip had in some way suggested 
the facts of the case to him. 

Kempton would have been very loth to have 
parted with Philip on any terms, as he had 
proved a most paying investment, and, fearing 
for an inquiry into his claim on the boy, he 
hastily moved his quarters. 

That very summer the Leicesters were again 
in London, accompanied by their second child, 
Lloyd, a boy of two years. They never could 
get over a horrible fear that he, too, might be 


TONY. 


33 


stolen ; a feeling they argued and strove against, 
lest it should spoil the boy’s life, besides making 
their own a nightmare. The detectives insisted 
on the theory that Philip, if alive, which they 
scarcely believed, was surely in London. And 
wherever Mrs. Leicester went, in the East End or 
the West End, down in gloomy Stepney or over 
in Hyde Park or Kensington, or Oxford Street, 
or in blind alleys, in respectable playgrounds, 
or in the Homes for Little Boys, she was look- 
ing for some child’s face she might think her 
own. Sometimes blue child’s eyes would look 
at her from under a thatch of sunny hair, and 
her heart would beat a double quick, and she 
would think perhaps that child was her baby — 
her little lost Philip. But it never was. 

Toward the end of the summer they travelled 
in Scotland, and they went to Edinburgh; and 
down in the Cowgate Mrs. Leicester heard 
rumors of a certain Philip who had gone away 
with a show, and the thought — the hope almost 
— that this might be her Philip came, as it 
always did, no matter how foolish she knew it 


34 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


to be. Nobody knew where Kempton and his 
show had gone. But later, as they drove through 
a small town, they saw a tent and on the tent, 
in large letters, the words, “ Kemp ton’s Great 
Consolidated Acrobatic Show and Theatrical 
Representations.” 

Their carriage was stopped, and Mrs. Leices- 
ter was determined to see this boy she had 
heard about in the Cowgate. Kempton was 
at work inside the tent, preparing for an after- 
noon exhibition. Tony and Philip were out- 
side, at the back of the tent playing. When 
they heard a new voice in the tent they cau- 
tiously moved the canvas and peered through. 
They saw a very beautiful lady, and a dark- 
haired, handsome little boy, holding her hand. 
A tall gentleman stood in the shadow by the 
door. Philip looked at his mother, and father, 
and little brother, with a vast indifference in his 
large eyes. 

“ Have you a fair-haired little boy of five 
with you in your show, Mr. Kempton ? ” asked 
the lady in a rarely musical voice. 


TONY. 


35 


“ That’s you, Poke ! Ain’t she purty, though ? 
Looks like you,” and Tony nudged his friend 
in the ribs. 

“ Got a red-headed, freckled boy of eight,” 
was the gruff reply. 

“ My hair ain’t red ! ” whispered Tony indig- 
nantly. 

“ I was told in Edinburgh, down in the Cow- 
gate, that you had a little boy of five with you, 
a boy named Philip.” 

Kempton was devoutly thankful that he had 
not yet hung out his bill on the tent, announc- 
ing the name of his star, and Tony again dug 
his sharp little elbow into Philip’s unoffending 
ribs. 

“ Quit, I say,” remonstrated Philip. 

Kempton heard the remark and threw a stool 
over against the boys’ side of the tent, which 
added largely to their enjoyment of the scene. 

“Yes. I had a boy named Philip from Cow- 
gate, my dead sister’s boy, and he was white- 
headed, and five years old, but he died of scarlet 
fever eight or nine months ago. Nance, you 


86 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


old fool, when did Philip die ? Was it eight or 
nine months ago? Speak up now and don’t 
keep gentility waiting ! ” 

Nance, so pleasantly adjured, appeared at the 
small opening in the back of the tent and 
drawled out, “ Eight months, accordin’ to my 
recollect.” 

“ Eight months, she says,” repeated Kempton 
savagely. “He was the sickliest child! Nursin’ 
just wouldn’t keep him alive. My sister died, 
of consumption, and he was just like her, white- 
livered and puny.” 

Tony by this time was in an ecstacy of de- 
light, rolling over on the ground, and pointing 
his finger at Philip, and repeating, “ Eight 
months ago — scarlet fever — sickly — oh, my 
eye — oh, my — bless him for a liar, out and out ! 
— oh — I shall choke. He never beat that yit ! ” 
And Philip, rejoicing as ever in his demi-god’s 
pleasure, laughed in unison, and peered with' 
him around the corner of the tent, and watched 
his only hope of a loved, happy, cared-for child- 
hood drive away, and yet felt never a pang. 


TONY. 


3T 


The Leicesters had not expected anything 
else, and were only a little more patient and 
tender with Lloyd, as an evidence of any dis- 
appointment. 

But if Mrs. Leicester could only have guessed 
in some way that her own little boy had been 
gazing at her through that dingy canvas wall ; 
if she could only have known that the eyes she 
loved so, and had kissed to sleep so often, and 
had dreamed of watched her curiously as she 
drove away on that sunny August morning ; if 
she could only have seen him, it might have 
been that something would have told her, he 
was hers — her Philip. For surely she had 
never seen such a five year old, and who could 
better have grown to be such a child than her 
own wonderfully beautiful baby? 

But perhaps she was saved something, after 
all. If she could have looked through that 
tent and have seen that dirty little boy in his 
ragged little trousers and shirt, without any 
sign of mother care about him, and could have 
seen the freckled, tow-headed, stocky little imp 


88 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


beside him, that acrobatic prodigy of eight, 
that mine of ill acquisitions open at all hours 
to her eager, admiring baby, what depth of 
sorrow would have been hers. Always imagin- 
ing the worst for her little boy, she had never 
imagined anything worse than the reality. She 
had never imagined that her child could be 
in the power of any one any worse than Kemp- 
ton, a passionate, bad-hearted, bad-tongued, bad- 
lived man ; with a woman more lost to all 
womanly heartedness than Nance, his wife, for 
Nance had nothing of kindness or truth left in 
her, except so far as concerned her oldest child, 
a little dwarfed idiot girl ; with a boy for a friend 
more precocious for evil and more capable of 
instructing her Philip in all the evil he knew 
than this Tony ; in a life more fitted to bring 
out all false ideas, all perversions of wrong, to 
develop brutality and meanness, to foster a 
love of evil for evil’s sake, than this wandering 
show life among the worst specimens of their 
kind. 

And any mother would have agreed at once. 


TONY. 


39 


Truly, what could be worse ? But one cannot 
always tell. People are very poor judges of 
just what things will influence a young life 
toward good or ill. Philip’s strong reverential 
love for this Tony, this scamp of the streets, 
this bloom of the hothouse of iniquity, a love 
which his mother would have deprecated as, 
perhaps, the worst feature of his present exist- 
ance, was, after all, the saving grace. 

Tony’s love for Philip was of the passionate, 
protective kind. Blame or abuse of Philip 
would put him in such a rage that he would be 
incapable of performing, and this fact tended 
greatly to diminish the harshness of Philip’s 
treatment. A certain amount of brutality 
Tony regarded as natural and inevitable, but 
beyond the airy limit set by himself he could 
not endure it to go. He was well aware that 
his interference and partisanship doubled his 
own portion of abuse, but he cared little for 
that ; a blow or an oath, more or less, was but 
as the proverbial water on the duck’s back. 

Philip was indebted to Tony for what physi- 


40 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


cal comfort he enjoyed in the way of sleep, and 
food, and cleanliness. 

Was the bedding scarce, Philip had his own 
and Tony’s, too ; were rations low, Tony was 
vigilant that Philip should have the larger share 
of the oat-cake and of the porridge, no matter 
how he felt the gnawings and rebellings of his 
own wretched little stomach. When he walked 
abroad, his snapping blue eyes watching for 
everything to yell at and jeer at, and would see 
the well-kept children of the better classes, his 
derisive amusement at their condition would 
promptly change to envious feelings on Philip’s 
behalf. One day -he saw a little boy, who re- 
minded him of Philip, walking in the park with 
his nurse, and the little fellow looked so clean, 
and sweet, and fresh that Tony was goaded to 
the very quick. The spirit of emulation seized 
him, and from that time on, whenever oppor- 
tunity offered, Tony, greatly to Philip’s satis- 
faction, for he had a spaniel’s delight in water 
and cleanliness, would industriously scrub the 
young man. He knew nothing of washing the 


TONY. 


41 


“ corners,” but liis wholesale application of water, 
and soap when he had it — wherever it would 
go on Philip’s dimpled body, greatly improved 
his appearance and presumably his health. Hav- 
ing washed Philip, Tony next discovered a dis- 
crepancy between the appearance of his skin 
and his outer coverings. And so the tow- 
headed son of rascality, little more than a baby 
himself, again suiting himself to time and oppor- 
tunity, would wash Philip’s wearing apparel in 
a streaky fashion, while Philip either wore no 
clothes at all worth mentioning, or half of 
Tony’s, for his stage toggery was carefully 
reserved for his brilliant performances in char- 
acter. 

Tony also took upon himself the cultivation 
of Philip’s moral nature. He was very apt to 
cultivate it immorally, but his intentions were 
for Philip’s progress. He greatly admired a 
cold, calm, unflinching lie, and he spent much 
time teaching Philip to lie and be proud of it. 
But, to his horror, as he walked behind two im- 
pressive-looking gentlemen in the street one 


42 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


day, he heard one say emphatically, “ The man 
is a liar ! ” The voice was sufficiently scornful, 
but the speaker added to the impression by 
spoken words. “ If there is one thing I have 
unbounded respect for it is for a man who 
honors his word, who scorns a lie or anything 
approaching it.” 

Tony had no interest in those remarks, so far 
as he himself was concerned. He could lie as 
easily as he could speak, and he trusted to his 
own wit to lie at convenient seasons — but 
Philip. Philip should not be scorned by any 
one. If to hate a lie would win respect from 
great men, Philip should hate a lie. And 
Philip was speedily instructed. 

“ Yer to hate a lie, Philip. Yer not to lie to 
nobody no more. I’ll hae nae mair o’t ! Gin I 
catch you tellin’ a lee, I’ll welt you from heel 
to crown. It’s aye weekit to tell a lee. If you 
tell anither ane, I’ll break every bone in yer 
body, and Tony Kempton won’t be fooled with ! ” 

Philip promised faithfully to abstain from 
lies and to cordially hate the same ; and Tony 


TONY. 


43 


questioned him threateningly about every state- 
ment he made, until he was convinced that 
Philip “ honored his word,” and then he let 
the matter drop. 

Tony taught Philip every bad word he knew, 
and found the keenest amusement in seeing the 
pretty baby mouth say the words in such a way 
as to clothe even their foulness with a sort of 
beauty. 

But while Tony was reviling a companion 
one day in his blackest style, a clergyman seized 
him by the shoulder and berated him soundly 
for using such language, and wound up with 
some remarks on the grief such words caused 
the Saviour who died for him, and how dis- 
pleasing they were to the great God. 

Tony would ordinarily have overwhelmed 
such an interrupter with reproaches and more 
“ language,” but he was attracted by the appli- 
cation the clergyman’s remarks might have to 
Philip’s case, and he listened respectfully. 
Philip should never be talked to that way. 
If such language caused such a storm among 


44 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


well-dressed people, Philip should have none 
of it. 

And when Philip next saw Tony, he was 
instructed to stick to decent language. Not 
that Philip rightly knew what decent language 
was, but the use of objectionable words, accord- 
ing to Tony’s standard, brought a sharp cuff on 
the head, and he speedily learned to speak most 
circumspectly ; for Philip’s chief ambition was 
to do as Tony wished him to do, and to win his 
approval in all things. 

“ What are kirks for, Tony ? ” 

“ For folks to dress themselves up and go to 
of a Sunday.” 

“ What do the people do ? ” 

“ They look at you like you wasn’t there, or 
like you was duddie if you’re me, and say sit 
back here and behave yoursel’.” 

“ But what do they do ? ” 

“ Oh, one man has it all his way, and the 
people they sing back at him, and its waur 
nor naething, and I rin out the on’y time I 
went.” 


TONY. 


45 


“ But what’s it for? ” 

“ Grin ye dinna haud yer claver I’se use me 
nieves.” 

Tony always made a point of threatening 
dreadful things when he was cornered by 
Philip. 

“Tony, who’s Jesus?” 

“ Swear word, ye ken. Yer no to say it.” 

“ But who is He, Tony ? ” 

“ Oh, He’s a man.” 

“ Is He aleeve ? ” 

“ No, I ken He’s no aleeve, for I’ve seen 
pictures of Him nailed up, and I ken He maun 
die in sic. a position.” 

“ How did you learn ? ” 

“ I’se aye kent all aboot Him lang syne. In 
the ragged school they tell it a’.” 

“ Why canna I go to the ragged school ? ” 

“ Kempton don’t want you speered at. You’ll 
no get into a ragged school, nor a Bible school, 
nor no kind of a school. But I’ll tell ye a’ 
aboot everything in the warl’.” 

“ What’s a Bible?” 


46 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“It’s a deilish tiresome black book, wi ower 
lang words intil it.” 

“ Why dinna yon have a Bible, Tony ? ” 

“ I wadna read it gin I had ane. Gin I 
spelled out a page o’ readin’ I wad read aboot 
smugglers, and fightin’, and sic like.” 

4 4 Where did Jesus live ? ” 

44 In Lunnon.” 

44 Who nailed him ? ” 

44 A rabble o’ Lunnoners. Now haud yer 
tongue. I canna thole sae mony questions ! ” 

A kind-faced man patted Philip on the head 
one day, gave him a tract, and told him always 
to say his prayers. 

The tract was on the subject of baptism, and 
Tony stoutly refused to read it, after having 
been terribly floored on the first line. Philip 
was intensely disappointed, but he began after 
a pause : — 

44 What’s prayers, Tony ? ” 

44 Some’s on beads, and some isna.” 

44 Do you know how ? ” 

44 Of course I know, you loon ! ” 


TONY. 


47 


44 Who told you ? ” 

“ A boy in the Cowgate tell me one, and 
there’s a picter I seen shows how.” 

“ Show me.” 

44 You’d ought to have on a long white sack. 
Get down on your knees, put yer hands the- 
gither in front of you — higher — now tip back 
your head and roll up your een so’s to show 
the whites — now ready, 

‘Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, 

Bless the bed that I lie on. ’ ” 

And at that very hour Lloyd was kneeling 
by his mother, repeating after her in the clear 
distinct tones that were like Philip’s, 44 Our 
Father in heaven, please bless Philip, and papa, 
and mamma, and help me want to be a good 
boy, for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.” 




CHAPTER IV. 


GLADYS. 

The little maiden stepped right merrily 
down the street. Since she had been in London 
she had not known such liberty as this ; and 
was not seven years just as old in London as in 
Boston ? 

It was one thing to go out with her mother, 
or her father, or her nurse, whom she regarded 
as a wholly unnecessary indignity, and quite 
another to start out bareheaded and unaccom- 
panied, as was much more becoming, it seemed 
to her, a young woman with a will of her own. 

The sunlight flooded the square. There was 
a smell of spring and of spring flowers in the 
air, for hyacinths in orderly ranks guarded the 
winding paths inside the tall black iron fence, 
and whiffs of hyacinths and other fragrant 


GLADYS. 


49 


flowers came out to greet one from the balconies 
of the houses. 

It was a fine day to be out ; there was no 
question about that in the mind of the little 
maid. She could feel a delicious thrill of life, 
and happiness, and freedom, and fresh air as she 
ran along the pavement, looking backward half 
fearfully to see if she were already pursued. 

The day was warm and that was decidedly in 
her favor. The little slippered feet might not 
otherwise have felt quite so equal to the 
demand made upon them, and the soft little 
white cloth suit would not have furnished all 
the protection from occasional shivers necessary 
for comfort. No one was coming. She was 
free ; she tossed back her dark hair, wondering 
why the curly ends would fly in her face, and 
darted around the corner. She had a tolerably 
accurate notion of the way to reach the crowd, 
and get away from the quiet Russell Square. 
She wanted to see things herself, and finally 
found herself on one of London’s greatest 
thoroughfares. Hansom cabs dashed in a reck- 


50 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


less way over the asphalt, heavy teams rattled 
along, little red-jacketed street cleaners skipped 
and dodged between wheels and horses’ feet. 
Flower women plied their trade on the street 
corners, joking and bantering each other and 
passers-by, and giving the curious call which to 
the initiated means a “ penny a bunch.” 

But Gladys, the runaway, cared nothing for 
flowers on this trip ; she wished to see the 
strange and the wonderful. In and out among 
the straggling or hurrying passers-by she went, 
and every one looked curiously and wonderingly 
at the odd sight, — the dark -haired, beautiful, 
eager child, running from window to window, 
clasping her hands with delight, her dark eyes 
round with excitement, her cheeks flushed, 
executing now and then a pas seul , and smiling 
at every one she ran into. 

But Oxford Street was not all the world, and 
she turned down a side street in quest of new 
adventures. The streets grew narrower and 
dirtier, and then she heard very dreadful noises. 
She stood on the corner and looked up the street 


GLADYS. 


51 


with a queer little sinking feeling inside of her. 
A woman, followed by a man, rushed screaming 
out of a 44 public ” near by, and seemed to be 
coming straight toward her. Two other women 
stopped them, and they all talked in loud, 
excited tones. With her hands clasped in front 
of her, the poor little girl stood there, too fright- 
ened to move. She felt as though she would 
cry out for very fear, when a hand was placed 
on her shoulder, and someone stood close beside 
her, and a kindly, musical, child’s voice said : — 

44 Frightened ? Don’t mind ; nobody’ll hurt 
you ! ” 

She looked up with a faint smile ; she did 
not have to look very far. She had seen 
beautiful things all her life, but until this 
moment had never had any conscious realiza- 
tion of the beautiful. 

The long-lashed, pleasant eyes that looked 
down into hers seemed to smile, and her own 
smiled gratefully back. Soft, curling, golden 
hair framed the boyish face ; she was conscious 
that one of his curls touched her cheek, and it 


52 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


felt like a kiss. She knew that he must be as 
much as nine years old. A very old boy to 
have long hair, she thought. Surely, this was a 
wonderful boy. She did not know that his 
tight little dark green trousers and jacket were 
almost out-grown and out-worn, and were only 
dingy velveteen. She only knew that he 
seemed strong, and straight, and kind, and as 
beautiful as the sun, and that his smile had 
taken away her fear. 

The disturbers of the peace passed on up the 
street. 

“ You ran away, didn’t you? ” said the boy, 
smiling and looking at her hatless head. 

“ Yes,” she nodded, “ I had such a good time ! 
I don’t know where I am now, though,” very 
confidingly. 

“ Where do you live, do you know ? ” 

“ Course. In Russell Square. . I’m an 
American.” 

And the boy’s heart did not leap. The 
word American meant nothing to him. He 
had no recollections about a long-ago May day 


GLADYS. 


53 


in Russell Square, or of a smiling mother with 
hair and eyes like his own. 

“ Russell Square,” with a meditative look in 
his eyes. “ I know where Russell Square is.” 
He seemed to hesitate a moment ; then, with the 
same frank, winning smile, he added, with sud- 
den determination, “ and I’ll take you back, too. 
You won’t be afraid then, will you ? ” 

She put her hand promptly in his. Her 
terror was scarcely a memory. 

“ And my nurse — do you have to have a 
nurse ? She’s just dretful. She is French and 
I’m to learn French ; do you know French? ” 
with a respectful little look into the face above 
her. 

“ Oh — ah. Parley vous Frangais — about 
all.” 

“ I’m so glad. I don’t know why I should 
speak French. I’m not going to live in France. 
I’m American. If you only were American. 
What are you ? ” 

“ Scotch, p’raps. But I’m cockney now.” 

“ I cry over my French.” 


54 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


‘‘Don’t — I wouldn’t — only boobies cry. 
Don’t you cry.” 

“ Don’t you cry ? ” 

“ Not much I don’t ! And I’ve been licked 
times enough, too ! ” He knew that he stood a 
very fair chance of having what he elegantly 
termed a licking within the next hour, but he 
walked determinedly on in search of Russell 
Square. 

Gladys, talking cheerfully about Boston, and 
the Soho Bazar, and her doll, and her brother, 
and her pony at home, could not have guessed 
that the graceful little fellow at her side was 
only a little “ show ” boy, in one of the very 
cheapest little shows in London, and that in a 
short time, with a scarlet sash around his waist, 
scarlet pointed slippers on his feet, lace cuffs up 
to his elbows, endless lace collar and lace shirt 
front, and with a little sword clankipg at his 
side, he would be going through a morning 
rehearsal of Prince Poco and his wonderful 
adventures to be exhibited that evening before 
a small portion of the London public, as a tail 


GLADYS. 


55 


piece to an acrobatic performance in which he 
would also figure largely. 

“ I hope your nurse won’t scold,” he said. 

“ It won’t make any difference if she does. I 
don’t mean to cry any more. I won’t be a 
boob — what is it ? ” 

“ Booby,” with a laugh ; “ you’ll do. Wisht 
I had something to give you.” 

“ Haven’t you anything ? ” encouragingly. 

“ Nary thing ; ” then his face brightened. 
“ Yes, a lucky farthing. Got it yesterday. Got 
one on me,” pulling a mysterious little string 
at his neck, and bringing to the light a farthing 
with a hole through it. 

“ Now you keep it, won’t you ? ” pleadingly. 
“ Wear it ’round your neck on a string. It will 
keep you lucky.” 

“Yes; I truly will keep it. Ah — what is 
your name ? Mine’s Gladys.” 

“Philip.” 

“Philip? We know a lady and she lost a 
little boy named Philip when she was in Lon- 
don, a teenty weenty baby, and she lost him 


56 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


right out of a carriage, and she lived right in 
the very house where we live now, and she prays 
for him every night. Do you kneel down by 
your mamma to say your prayers ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Oh, you’re big enough to say them by 
yourself, I suppose. My brother says his by 
himself.” 

“ Do you have to learn verses ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Not even Bible verses ! My ! I do. I 
have to learn one every morning.” 

“ What did you learn this morning ? ” 

“ Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall 
see God.” 

“See God?” 

“Yes. My mamma said it meant two ways 
— see Him after we are dead and have gone to 
heaven, see Him now with the eyes of our souls ; 
the purer and better we can be the more able we 
would be to see Him : but I would rather see 
Jesus. She said it meant to see Jesus, too. I 
don’t understand very well, but mamma said 


GLADYS. 


57 


the main thing was to understand the being 
pure in heart and do it, and the rest would 
take care of itself.” 

“ How are you going to be pure in heart ? ” 

“ Why, you mustn’t think anything naughty, 
and if a girl tells } t ou anything you wouldn’t 
like anybody to hear, like Nellie Brown did to me 
once, you’re to not listen, and say it’s naughty, 
and make her quit talking; only I didn’t. I 
wanted to hear about it ; but I’m not going to 
be that way any more ; and you are to fill your 
mind with nice, good thoughts, and all. I 
don’t suppose you ever listened to anything 
bad, did you ? And you wouldn’t think any- 
thing naughty a minute, would you ? Are you 
hot? What’s your face so red for ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing. I’ll learn your verse, too. 
4 Blessed are the pure in heart because — ’ ” 

44 No ; 4 for .’ ” 

“ 4 For they shall see God.’ ” 

44 That’s it! Wasn’t Jesus Christ good to 
come down and save everybody that would ever 
want to be saved, and bless little children ? I 


58 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


just know He wouldn’t have made me tag 
around with a French nurse all the time. He 
is with you all the time, anyway. I don’t 
think my mother has very much faith, ’r else 
she’d just as soon I’d go around alone with 
Jesus as with my nurse. I’d have consider’ble 
more faith if I had a little girl as big as me. 
I’m going to dress my little girls in pink 
dresses with white aprons.” 

44 How do you mean Jesus is with you all 
the time ? ” and Philip looked around curiously, 
as though he half expected to see somebody. 

44 Oh, you don’t see Him,” was the prompt 
answer. 44 But He’s with us — anyway, with 
those that want Him — for He said so. That 
was my verse yesterday : 4 So I am with you 
always.’ So He is, you see. If He had said 
anymore words about it, I should have forgotten 
it by to-day. It’s a very nice feeling that He 
loves you, and takes care of you all the time. 
Makes me feel very nice nights when I wake 
up. When I’m comfortable, eating, or some- 
thing, I don’t seem to think so much about it.” 


GLADYS. 


59 


“ My farthing will help, too ; will you surely 
keep it? ” 

“Yes, I truly, really will keep it.” 

“ Here we are.” 

“ O Philip, you won’t go away, will you ? 
Come in ! O Philip, don’t ! ” and she held him 
by both hands, and in a pretty, wilful way, 
begged him to accompany her. 

The door opened and the unnecessary French 
nurse appeared upon the scene ; at the sight of 
Gladys she waved her hands frantically, cry- 
ing:— 

“Mees Gladees ! Mees Gladees! You haf 
deestracted your parents ! You haf broke my 
heart in two pieces ! You are weekit, and will 
zurely be chastized ! Helas ! Helas ! ” 

Philip smiled down into the little maid’s be- 
seeching eyes, disengaged his hands, whispered, 

“ Good-by, Gladys,” and, with a long, last look 
at the distressed little face, ran down the square, 
straight as an arrow, and graceful as some boy 
Mercury. 

Marie, the French nurse, who had not, in 


60 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


spite of her remarks to Gladys, divulged to her 
mistress the disappearance of her little charge, for 
the simple reason that she had only discovered 
that absence within the last fifteen minutes, and 
had been hoping to find the child without in- 
criminating herself, took the delinquent to her 
room and expostulated with her. 

“ Why haf you so behafed ? Why haf you 
make so much of misery ? Tt ees vicious ! 
These Americans ! In France the little ones 
do not act so ! They move with their bonnes, 
and are much graceful and quiet, and are like 
leetle angels ! And to find you with a truly, 
horrid boy ! ” 

“ Oh, you cruel woman, he was not horrid ! 
he was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful ! You can 
say what you like to me, but you shall not say 
such things about Philip.” 

“ I repeat, Mees Gladees, a truly, horrid boy 
of the streets.” 

She had gone too far. 

Gladys, struggling to keep back her tears, 
rushed to the breakfast-room, where she was 


GLADYS. 


61 


sure she would find her mother writing letters, 
flung herself inside the door, and precipitated 
upon her mother a perfect avalanche of in- 
coherency. 

“ She shall not, mamma, she shall not ! I 
have endured it as long as I possibly can. The 
beautifulest boy, and she says horrid ! And I 
love Philip, and she shall not speak so, mamma ! 
I cannot live if Marie speaks so ! ” 

It was very perplexing, but this impetuous 
little daughter needed great skill. 

Mrs. Marshall took the little girl in her arms 
and tried to soothe her. In a few moments the 
inestimable bonne appeared to relieve Madame 
of Mees Gladees, but Gladys refused to allow 
her mother to be relieved. 

“ He gave me a lucky farthing, mamma, 
Philip did, and I jus’ know Marie will try to 
take it away ! She is cruel, cruel, and I can’t 
endure it. I wish I had died before you ever 
got such ’diculous notions, mamma ! I did 
think you were sensible ! and she must not call 
Philip horrid.” 


62 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


Little by little the story came out, and when 
Mrs. Marshall realized that the one thing to 
guard against which she had indulged in this 
nurse had happened, she made some resolutions 
relative to the nurse which would have much 
calmed her melancholy daughter. 

She very much wished she had seen this 
wonderful boy whose beauty had so impressed 
Gladys, and to whom she was so much in- 
debted for the little maiden’s return. She 
looked at the lucky farthing, but it seemed 
like any other farthing, with the exception 
of the little hole, and gave no clue to its 
whilom owner. Gladys was assured that she 
could keep the farthing 44 for hers always.” 
And Marie indulged in some private reflections 
on 44 these Americans ” not complimentary to 
their intellects. 

44 Mamma, he was dressed in green velvet, 
and he had long hair, mamma, sort of curly, and 
not dark like mine, but goldeny-colored hair ; 
and, oh, I don’t know how to tell about him, 
but if I only could see him again ! If Marie 


GLADYS. 


63 


had invited him in, now, I think he would have 
come ! ” 

Marie clasped her hands, raised her eyes 
ceiling-ward, and murmured, “ Ciel ! ” 

“ He hasn’t any nurse, Philip hasn’t, and only 
knows Parlez vous Franpais , ’cause he said so, 
mamma ; and I wish and I wish you would get 
him for me again ! ” 

And that night when Gladys went to bed 
and her mother had her kneel down by her in 
the bright light of the open-grate fire, to say 
her prayers, the child’s usual prayer had a new 
addition. 

“ Dear God,” said the childish voice most 
reverently, “ please bless Philip, and keep him 
a good boy. Amen.” 

“ Now Philip will be good, won’t he, mam- 
ma ? ” she said, jumping up. 

And her mother thought somewhat sadly of 
childish faith, and wished that her dear friend, 
Mrs. Leicester, in her home over the sea, in 
Boston, could have the same faith that God 
would keep her little lost Philip from evil and 


64 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


sin. For she knew well that, bitter as that 
strange loss was, the agony of it all lay in the 
thought that the long-prayed-for, much-loved 
firstborn would grow up to meet temptations, 
with no skill to parry them, with no mother- 
tended strength for the good and the right ; and 
that, as she looked on her other son and little 
daughter, there was always the dull, dumb 
grief that her first child, her Philip, was miss- 
ing all the mother love, and mother help, and 
mother care she lavished on Lloyd and Hazel. 

All that night Gladys trembled and tossed in 
her little room next her mother’s, and her 
mother heard her call, “ Don’t go, Philip ! 
Please, Philip ! ” And then again, “ Philip, 
Philip, O Philip ! ” And she wondered what 
manner of boy this could be who could so 
attract her fastidious little daughter, and if they 
could find him again. 

O 

But they did not find him. They heard 
nothing more of Philip ; and a sign seen by 
Mrs. Marshall on a curious -looking building in 
a questionable street, to the effect that every 


GLADYS. 


65 


night could be seen, on payment of the merely 
nominal consideration of a sixpence, the Famous 
Child Acrobat, Philip King Faro, and Other 
Wonderful Performers, meant nothing what- 
ever to her. 


CHAPTER V. 


BEHIND THE SCENES. 

“ How, now, you young villain ! I’ll teach 
you to loaf around the streets when you are 
ordered to be here! Where have you been, 
sir?” 

Philip skilfully dodged the whip cut that the 
exasperated manager had made in his direction. 
He had not expected such a reception as this, 
though he knew when he decided to take the 
little girl to Russell Square that he would not 
be received with the warmest cordiality. Man- 
ager Kempton must be in a very bad temper, 
indeed, thought the little acrobat, and he en- 
deavored to make a run for the door into 
another room, where he hoped to find Dame 
Kempton. 

“None of that, sir! ” 


BEHIND THE SCENES. 


67 


Manager Kempton placed himself before the 
door and grasped the boy by one arm. He was a 
heavy-set, square-built man, with beetling black 
eyebrows, under which his eyes seemed to 
gleam out, either with a hard, grasping expres- 
sion, or, as now, with hot, uncontrolled anger. 

44 Where have you been, sir ? Coming in at 
this hour ! ” 

Kempton’s raised right arm brought down 
the leather lash swiftly on the boy’s back. The 
red blood rose to the little fellow’s face, he gave 
one convulsive shiver, then seemed to stiffen. 
His hands clenched themselves into little fists, 
his teeth ground together, his shoulders and 
knees straightened, he shook back his sunny 
hair, and looked square into the man’s eyes. 

“ I’ll teach you to look that way at me, you 
dog ! ” and down came the stinging lash again. 
It would have come down again, but at that 
moment there sounded from the room behind 
the most blood-curdling yell ; a scream that 
would have called a halt in the nefarious 
proceedings of the devil himself. Kempton 


68 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


dropped the boy’s arm and hastily opened the 
door. 

“ Run, Poco ! Up the rod with yer ! ” cried 
a boy’s voice ; and Prince Poco, otherwise 
Philip, acting upon the suggestion, immediately 
climbed a pole with astonishing agility, and 
seated himself on a cross-bar at the top. 

“ Who yelled ? ” shouted Kempton. 

A shock-headed, under-sized boy of about 
twelve, in a suit of tights, with his thumbs in 
his belt, appeared at the door, and giving a suc- 
cession of surprising leaps, and grinning like a 
Cheshire cat, bestowed the desired information. 

“ I did, guv. Yah ! I’ll yell again if you 
lick the kid ! I’ll yell like you never heard ! 
Won’t the Bobbies be in after yer in a hurry, 
though ? Yah ! Think how they came in on 
yer in Leeds las’ time I yelled ! Yah, I say ! 
Stick it out up there, Poco, my boy! Tve 
nailed him ! ” 

Kempton muttered between his teeth, slashed 
his whip through the air, and strode past the 
little jumping dervish in front of him. 


BEHIND THE SCENES. 


69 


Tony Kempton, for this enterprising young 
rebel was none other than the manager’s only 
son and heir, turned four somersaults to the 
foot of the pole, and was at the top in less than 
a second, beside his companion in arms. 

44 Don’t it fetch him, though? ” said the imp. 
44 Aint it a bully dodge ? That yell ought to 
make my fortin. Weren’t that the rip-tear-inest 
yell I give this time ? You ninny,” in the most 
affectionate tone, putting his arm around the 
little fellow’s shoulder, 44 you wouldn’t squeak 
if it killed you ! Why, dad would have thrashed 
the life outen you afore now, if yer hadn’t had 
me to pertect you, me son,” in a theatrical tone. 
44 He’s in a whoopin’ bad temper. Coz can’t do 
the ring trick, and he’s all bunged up. Mam’s 
takin’ care of the little fool. And the tail of 
Miky’s dragon and part of the headpiece is 
busted and things is in a fine fix for this after- 
noon and ter-night ; and then you not turnin’ up 
— I knowed you’d git it, and I was a-watchin’. 
Did them two licks hurt you ? Stingers ! Pop’s 
got the bulge on a whiplash,” with some pride. 


TO 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ ’Taint hoffen he’s so mad as he’d furgit to ’ave 
you take offen yer jacket. That saved some, 
didn’t it?” 

Philip nodded and tried to smile ; it felt good 
to rest his sore little back against Tony. 

Manager Kempton had found this prize of his, 
this child that made him more money by his 
beauty than he had ever gained himself by any 
trick or device, a rose not without thorns. It 
aroused almost too much comment to have a 
boy of such parts. And Kempton’s angry fits 
and drinking sprees stood him in bad stead 
when the boy had awakened interest in some 
philanthropic breast. It was only by disappear- 
ing in the night and by all sorts of lies and 
chicanery that Kempton had kept himself out 
of the clutches of the law, and all because that 
boy would interest people in him wherever he 
went. The trouble Philip had caused him 
made Kempton much more venomous in his 
treatment of him than he might otherwise have 
been ; but Philip had a secret, though inefficient, 
supporter in Dame Kempton. There was a 


BEHIND THE SCENES. 


71 


reason for her kindly offices to Philip which he 
never suspected. The Kempton’s oldest child 
was an idiot and a dwarf-girl. She was fifteen 
when Philip first became a member of the 
Kemp ton show, but was not larger than a child 
of three, except for her huge head. The child 
was a frightened, helpless thing, scoffed at, and 
kicked, and cruelly ill-used by her father, but 
loved and pitied by her mother in a secret, 
passionate way, though the woman had very 
little feeling for her other children. And this 
little girl, this little deformed dwarf, was 
pathetically fond of Philip. She would creep 
up beside him, when he was home, and rest, 
happy if he would stroke her little claw-like 
hands or enormous head. He did not seem to 
feel repulsed by her ; he never pushed her away 
from him, or tried to avoid her. He would 
walk out with her on the street, and, because of 
their fondness for “ King Philip,” the children, 
though they could not forbear hooting at the 
little deformity, would not pull at her, or 
frighten her, or hurt her. 


72 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


Noticing these little things about the boy 
touched something in Dame Kemp ton that he 
never could have reached in any other way. 

Only a short time before they came to. Lon- 
don, the dwarf had died. Her death was only 
something to be thankful for, but Dame 
Kemp ton felt an angry, helpless sense of loss 
that she knew no one could suspect or believe 
in — that no one would heed. The little body, 
so small that it looked like a baby’s, was laid 
out in an upper room ; two candles burned, a 
white cloth covered the body. Dame Kempton 
went up for a last look, and there she found, 
kneeling by the bed, a golden-haired boy, 
shaking with sobs. It seemed as though 
death was never guarded by ' anything so 
fair. He loved her crooked, dwarfed treasure. 
And those tears could not be forgotten by 
the inscrutable woman standing in the low 
doorway. 

But the night of the very morning in which 
Philip had felt the lash — and called it easy 
payment for his memory of the little Gladys 


BEHIND THE SCENES. 


73 


from Russell Square — the belligerent Tony 
was doomed to receive his reward for his 
interference of the morning. Tilings had 
not gone with that degree of smoothness 
necessary to keep Manager Kempton in a first- 
class humor. His son’s championship of the 
recreant Prince Poco had left a sting. He felt 
his fingers burn to retaliate upon his offspring. 
Matters went worse and worse, and by twelve 
o’clock that night Manager Kempton was, un- 
fortunately, able to lay hands upon his son. 
He had his whiplash ready and, urged on by the 
very give of the boy’s quivering flesh under the 
whip, he gave him such a thrashing as he had 
never thought of giving him before. The boy’s 
screams at that time of night and in that 
quarter would not have done him much good ; 
and Tony was more of an adept at yelling for 
his friend than for himself. 

When his father’s rage had expended itself, 
and he had pushed the boy from him, and had 
betaken himself to a neighboring public to finish 
his bout, for he had been drinking heavily all 


74 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


day, Tony limped to the little room where 
Philip was waiting for him. Bleeding, and 
moaning, and sore, Tony dropped on the little 
makeshift of a bed in the corner. Philip 
knelt down beside him, his throat choked and 
his poor little chest heaving. 

“ O Tony, Tony ! O Tony, Tony ! ” 

“ He about killed me, Poke,” groaned 
Tony. 

Philip lit a bit of a candle stuck in a potato, 
brought in a tin basin of water, some rags and 
some oil. Then, half blinded by the tears that 
would come, he tried in the gentlest way to 
bathe the poor little swollen, bruised body, and 
to put on some of the oil and some of the rags. 

“ Poke, I’ll kill yer, if you touch that place 
again!” Tony would groan — then, “Philip, 
Phil — if it wasn’t fur you ! ” 

“ Poke, you are a good fellow ! ” 

“I’ll leave yer my fortin, Philip, sure’s yer 
born, and a pistol to shoot the guv.” 

“ Oh, wouldn’t I like to fetch a welt or two 
on him just onct ! ” 


BEHIND THE SCENES. 


75 


“I’ll knock yer yeller head offen you if you 
don’t leave me alone ! ” 

Philip kept on, with his firm, soft, ready 
little fingers, making his friend easier all the 
time, smoothing back the rough hair, placing 
his cheek against Tony’s dirty, tear-stained face, 
soothing him with all the rough kind words he 
knew. 

“ You’ll feel better, Tony. Don't it help 
you any ? All for me, Tony. Oh, I’d die fur 
you, Tony. I’ll kill the guv fur you ; don’t you 
furgit it ! O Tony — Tony ! ” 

When he could do no more and had made 
Tony as comfortable as he possibly could, he 
lay down beside him, trying to rest the tired 
head against his shoulder, and tirelessly smooth- 
ing the hot forehead, for he saw it soothed him. 
Finally, Tony dropped off into a restless sleep, 
tossing up his arms and muttering to himself. 
In about an hour he was wideawake. He was so 
stiff he could hardly move. He woke up Philip. 

“ Philip, I want to tell you something. I 
can’t stay in this place any more. Father’s 


76 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


gittin’ wuss and wuss. I’m goin’ away, but I 
can’t leave you. Will you come ? ” 

“ Where you goin’ ? ” Philip was alert. 
“Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve been thinkin’ 
bouten it. I wasn’t goin’ to say nothin’, because 
I liked our show, and I’m the best tumbler in 
it ” — with some pride — “ and I wouldn’t a- 
left you for nothin’.” Philip gave him a tight 
hug. “ But now I’ve thought you could go, 
too, and I can’t stand this no longer, I can’t ! ” 
“ What is it ? ” 

“ You know that man I was talkin’ to Satur- 
day? Young fellar with a red cap? Well, he 
kin do the rummest things you ever see. He’s 
been in a tra veilin’ show summers, and in a 
Lonnun one winters. He’s been sort o’ chummy 
with me, an’ he says this here ’s no place, and 
he’s a-goin’ to pull up stakes and strike for 
America. He says he’d take me if I’d come, 
and we’d hire out to some show there’ and make 
our fortins. He’s a-goin’ to sail this very next 
Saturday from Liverpool. He’s a-goin’ to — 
lawk, what is that there place ? ” 


BEHIND THE SCENES. 


77 


“Boston?” said Philip, mentioning the only 
American city he had ever heard of — the city 
where Gladys lived. 

“ How’d you know ? Who told you ? Well, 
that the very place, sure’s you’re born. Now 
you must keep mum, or I’ll shoot you dead’s a 
nail. You’ll go, will you ? ” 

“ Jes’ won’t I ’f you do, Tony ? ” 

“I’ll see if he’ll take you, and find how 
much money, and he can pay fur you, stid o’ 
me, and I’ll see to the money fur me.” 

“ How?” 

“ Oh, I’ll see to that ! That’s none of yer 
business. We’ll go, noways. Oh, I’m that 
stiff! Mind, you’re to keep quiet, and you’ll 
come, sure’s you’re born ? ” 

“ I’ll go anywhere with you.” 

“ You’re a rum young-un. Never see such a 
tough for nine years old, some ways — catch 
onto anything ! And, my soul, such an awful 
good boy — never did see such a customer ! 
Rub my head some more. You’ve got fingers 
like them little winds that blow over the Loch 


78 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


in July. Oh, I just wisht I could see the Loch 
onct more.” 

And both boys dropped asleep, having taken 
the first steps in the plan that was to take 
Philip back to his native land and native city. 


CHAPTER VI. 


SOME OTHER PHILIP. 

There was great jubilation at Elm Grove — 
the fine, elm-shaded, gabled, verandahed home, 
well back from Centre Street, in Jamaica Plain. 
The Marshall family had been in their native 
land, under their own familiar and well-beloved 
vine and fig tree, for a full two days, and the 
children’s hilarity was at high tide. 

From sunrise it had been, “ O Chalmer, the 
bird houses are all right ! ” — “ Oh, how jolly ! ” 
— “ Oh, I shall never go away again as long as 
I live ! ” — “I just hate England, and Scotland, 
and all of it ! ” or, 

“ Benjamin ! Benjamin ! what did I tell you ? 
My peach trees are fine ! Just look ! ” 

For Chalmer, for some reason known only to 
himself, had always called his sister Gladys, 


79 


80 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


Benjamin. Mrs. Marshall had argued with her 
eldest in vain. He called her Benjamin, and 
Benjamin she seemed likely to remain to the end 
of the chapter. 

Their pets had been brought back from the 
country, where they had been kept during their 
absence ; their favorite nooks and corners had 
been put into something of their accustomed 
shape; their “very own” fruit trees, and vines, 
and flower beds, and garden plots had been ex- 
amined, and now they were ready to see their 
friends. 

Chalmer was preparing “ to look up some of 
the boys, ’’and Gladys was beginning to wonder 
where Nellie, and Virginia, and “ all the girls, 
mamma,” were, when a carriage stopped under 
the porte-cochere, and out jumped Lloyd Leices- 
ter, followed by Hazel. Lloyd and Gladys 
greeted each other most effusively, for they 
were the same age, and had always been warm 
friends. Chalmer, who was nearly four years 
older, was too patronizing in his manner toward 
Lloyd to altogether please that young man. 


SOME OTHER PHILIP. 


81 


Then Gladys hugged and petted the four- 
year-old Hazel, and was rapturously delighted 
to see how she had grown. 

Mrs. Leicester stood by, laughing at the 
children’s delight and enjoying the scene heartily. 
Hazel fairly jumped up and down in her ex- 
citement, her brown eyes dancing, and her soft, 
short, little brown curls bobbing every which 
way. 

Mrs. Marshall hurried out to greet her friend, 
and they adjourned to the library, “ positively 
the only room in order*” while the children 
adjourned to far more enchanting quarters. 

Mrs. Leicester knew it was absurd, but still 
she did have a faint, irrepressible hope in her 
heart that her friend might think she had some 
clue to Philip’s whereabouts. Straight from 
England — from London, even — knowing the 
whole story, perhaps she had seen some child 
she had thought might be Philip ; perhaps she 
had heard something that might give a clue. 

Mrs. Marshall realized this well, and the con- 
versation soon drifted to the lost child. Mrs. 


82 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


Marshall told of the children she had inter- 
viewed, of the traces she had thought she had 
found, for she had felt confident when she left 
Boston that it was to fall to her lot to restore 
the lost boy to his mother. Her experiences 
were some of them very amusing, and Mrs. 
Leicester was always ready to see the humorous 
side of a situation. 

“ And so,” said Mrs. Marshall finally, “ my 
fine hopes all deserted me. I have been, if any- 
thing, more unsuccessful than all the rest, for I 
did not ever really think I had found a trace.” 

“ Benjamin found him, though, Mrs. Leices- 
ter,” said Chalmer, in a quiet, good-natured 
tone that made Mrs. Leicester and his mother 
start, for he had come in unobserved ; “ and 
his name is Philip yet.” 

“ Come, Chalmer,” said his mother severely, 
“it is well enough for you to joke with Gladys, 
but you do not realize what we are talking 
about.” 

Chalmer reddened ; he had spoken on the 
impulse of the moment. “ Well, anyway, it is 


SOME OTHER PHILTP. 


83 


only fair Benjamin should tell Mrs. Leicester 
about her Philip,” and, without waiting for any 
further remarks, he stepped through the long 
open window, and called Gladys. 

“ Come on and tell Mrs. Leicester about 
Philip,” he said, as she drew nearer. 

She needed no other invitation, but, running 
in, seated herself in a little rocking-chair beside 
Mrs. Leicester, and began her tale. She clasped 
her hands around one knee ; her large, dark eyes 
seemed to open wider and wider ; she tossed 
back her dark hair impatiently every few 
minutes, and her voice was convincing to a 
degree. 

“ Oh, he was the beautifullest boy, beautiful, 
beautiful ! His eyes were pre-cise-ly like 
yours ; his hair was just like yours, only goldier, 
and long to his shoulders, and curly at the 
ends, and his lips smiled like yours ! ” Gladys 
seemed to be fascinated by her hearer’s face as 
she went on with her recital. “ And he was 
the bravest, and the strongest, and the straight- 
est, and the most remarkably good boy you ever 


84 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


saw ! He was the best boy I ever saw ! He 
took me home. He drove away drunken people. 
He held my hand all the way ; he was so much 
higher than I,” indicating with her hands. 
“ He was very rich ; he was dressed all in vel- 
vet — dark-green velvet ; oh, beautiful clothes ! 
His voice was beautiful to hear ; it was just 
like yours. He said for me not to cry, and I 
don’t any more — Chalmer, be still ; hardly 
ever now, you know, and I mean to make a 
new rule never to cry again. He gave me a 
lucky farthing,” and she triumphantly pulled at 
a ribbon on her neck, and brought to view the 
little brown farthing. That was the climax of 
her story, and she always displayed the farthing 
as proof positive of Philip’s beauty, much as 
the good Othere remarked, “ Behold this 
walrus tooth ! ” 

“You didn’t tell his name,” suggested 
Chalmer. 

“ Philip ; Philip, of course. He said his 
name was Philip.” 

“ It is odd there should be so many beautiful 


SOME OTHER PHILIP. 


85 


Philips,” said Mrs. Leicester, smiling faintly. 
It was so hard to hear such things ; somebody’s 
beautiful Philip, cared for and loved. And 
hers — where was he ? 

“ You know in the Cowgate I was told about 
a beautiful Philip in a show ; but the show 
manager said he was dead; and here is your 
Philip, Gladys, and mine ; surely, mine must 
be beautiful, too.” 

And Mrs. Marshall nodded vigorously. The 
Baby Philip’s beauty was not to be forgotten. 

The conversation had assumed a slightly 
oppressive complexion. Lloyd, with the deep- 
est sympathy in his dark eyes, put his arm 
around his mother’s neck, laid his cheek against 
hers, and said wistfully : — 

“If I only had one blue eye and half my 
hair yellow, I could be Philip and Lloyd, too.” 

“ Bless you ! ” said his mother, giving him an 
impulsive hug, “ I want you just exactly the 
way you are, — the best little boy a woman could 
have ! There now, Philip is all right, and we 
are, too ; you run off and have a good time.” 


86 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


And Lloyd, with a lighter heart, went off 
with the others. 

“ I just dread sacrificing my other children 
to my grief for Philip,” said Mrs. Leicester ; 
“ and it is such a temptation to spend money 
we really need for the children, to give them 
the sort of home and advantages that are their 
right, on the search for Philip. If John Lei- 
cester hadn’t seemed to be blessed in everything 
he has touched, we never could have gotten on 
at all, for large sums just had to be spent. But 
the temptation is constantly to spend all. And 
we feel it to be so useless.” 

Another carriage had driven up, and Miss 
Mackenzie, from Brookline, was ushered in. 
Both ladies felt a sudden cheeriness and exhilar- 
ation at her entrance. They knew her well, 
and knew what to expect. Who could be any- 
thing but amused and cheerful in her presence ? 

Margaret Mackenzie, spinster, householder, 
and tax-payer — a good friend and a rabid hater ; 
at least, she claimed to be, though nobody 
really believed her on that point — strongly 


SOME OTHER PHILIP. 


87 


partisan, never in doubt, always for or against 
whatever could be mentioned, yet not unapt to 
veer suddenly from one side to the other, in she 
came. 

“ W ell, ladies, I am delighted to see you 
both — two birds with one stone, as it used to 
be quite the thing to say when I was young, 
though we are all far more elegant now. I 
never see Mrs. Leicester. 

“ Indeed, yes, there is quantities of news ! 
Brookline has suddenly become seething with 
reformers ! I, myself, am completely upset ! I 
am out now trying to hold my head up and 
recuperate ! We have a firebrand in our midst ! 
Miss Gardener’s successor. You know when 
Miss Gardener died. Yes, good soul, we all 
went to the funeral ; and she left her house 
and all her money to a mere chit of a girl, not 
twenty-five, anyway, if she is at all near it. She 
doesn’t look twenty, and she is as set in her 
ways and as independent as if she were forty. 
Of course, it wasn’t exactly Miss Gardener’s 
fault that this girl got the property. If she 


88 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


had thought to do anything to prevent it, she 
probably would. But she didn’t. And of all 
things, the girl came out to live in the house 
herself — alone ; with only a servant and a 
little crippled boy — no kith nor kin of hers, 
either, right out of the gutter — and a born 
angel, if there ever was one — and there she 
stays, turning the plage upside down, and fill- 
ing us all with the most unheard-of notions — 
unheard of in polite society. Why, if you’ll 
believe me, she fills the house, Miss Gardener's 
house, with dirty newsboys and bootblacks any 
night in the week, and keeps one or two living 
there all the time — and she just harps on two 
things all the time — or three — no, two. Tem- 
perance and cleanliness. Only it isn’t temper- 
ance. I am, or was, temperance myself. It is 
prohibition — abstinence from one end to the 
other, total extinction doctrine. Yes, and they 
believe all she tells them, every one of ’em ! 
And, ladies, I can’t ask you to believe it, I 
don’t believe it myself until the hours come ; 
she propelled, ejected me — yes, me — into the 


SOME OTHER PHILIP. 


89 


business myself. I have girls — little, dirty, 
miserable, no-account, slovenly, sloppy, inquisi- 
tive, unmannerly, Irish girls — only they are 
all lovely, as a matter of fact, after you are 
acquainted with them. And I am to instruct 
them in morals, and sewing, and neatness, and 
if that hasn’t run into temperance, too ! It is 
appalling, positively appalling ! The prohibi- 
tion extinction kind of temperance at that! 
This very day I have been forced to empty out 
my wines and brandies that I cook with — my 
wines that I have had in my house for years, 
for extra occasions — empty them all out — a 
waste of good gold — all gone — down a drain ! 
Where now shall I have jellies and puddings 
worth mentioning? Where are my mince pies? 
Where is my hospitality? Yet I have done it! 
I have come out to recuperate ! ” 

There was an amused twinkle in the good 
lady’s eyes during her narration, and her hearers 
had no hesitation about laughing. 

“Well, I am thankful,” said Mrs. Leicester, 
promptly ; “I am thankful something can be 


90 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


so effectual. Think of all the years you have 
let me talk, all to no effect. This young 
woman must be worth knowing. What is her 
name ? ” 

“ Joyce — Miss Joyce. And don’t you come 
over to Brookline, I don’t want you ; two of 
you would be insufferable. She is bad enough, 
but she is young, and she is not officious nor 
didactic ; but if she should be bolstered up in 
her opinions by a woman of your appearance 
she might be both, and ruin my chance of 
peace. For I am beginning to enjoy her doings 
immensely. And that cripple — John, his name 
is — he is an angel ; and there is no chance for 
his life,” and two tears stood in the little 
lady’s eyes, and she turned sharply to Mrs. 
Marshall. “ And I’d thank you, Maria, for 
a glass of water and a slice of cake ! It is 
positively sinful to let people sit here and 
swelter and starve just because you have been 
abroad. No cake ! Good horrors ! Bread, 
then, woman, bread and water — if you keep 
such prison fare ! ” 


SOME OTHER PHILIP. 


91 


And Mrs. Marshall went off, laughing at her 
good friend’s unchanged style. 

“ J ust the same, isn’t she ? ” she called out to 
Mrs. Leicester, who smiled appreciatively back. 

“ What do you think, Mrs. Leicester ? Is it 
a good thing for this young woman to get these 
ragamuffins and — and temperance them ? 
Will it amount to anything? Is there any 
use in it? ” 

“ Thank heaven, yes ! ” was the fervent 
answer. “ There is nothing equal to it. That 
is the most terrible thing to me about having lost 
my Philip in England instead of in this country. 
It seems as though there he could have no 
chance for his life ; it seems so to me, I say. 
And it seems as though here in this country 
there might be a chance. For instance, if my 
little boy had been lost in this country, and 
were one of the little street children she has 
gotten together, that would be a chance — a 
great chance for him.” 

And, after all, it was this Miss Joyce who 
was to give her Philip his chance for his life. 


92 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


When Mrs. Marshall came back with the 
refreshments, so insistently demanded, she 
began to tell about her trip and the sights they 
had seen. The Leicesters had been over four 
times since Philip’s loss, but this was Mrs. 
Marshall’s first trip. 

44 By the way, Chief Malvern told me he had 
sent you over another boy.” 

44 Yes, poor little fellow, at least a year too 
young, very small, and red-headed, but rather 
a nice little face. I can’t help loving him. I 
love them all. If it hadn’t been for that, for 
these boys, and thinking that all this had been 
a little good to somebody, I couldn’t stand it 
sometimes.” 

44 Which one is he ? ” 

44 Irving — the last I.” 

Mrs. Leicester’s despondency had been so 
great after their first return home that Mr. 
Leicester, trying to bring some sunshine and 
hope into the gloom, had suggested that the 
next absolutely destitute child brought to their 
notice by the London detectives as possibly 


SOME OTHER PHILIP. 


98 


their boy they should try to provide for, should 
try to find a home for, and help as occasion 
demanded. 

Mrs. Leicester seized on the idea with des- 
perate eagerness. Anything to make some 
good come out of her loss. She said then that 
she would not only take one, but that she 
should take as many as were brought to her 
notice as there were letters in Philip’s name. 
And she had kept her word. At times, Mr. 
Leicester could hardly like the idea of taking 
money he was so anxious to spend on • the 
search to pay for the passage, and clothing, 
and care of a boy to Boston, but Mrs. Leicester 
would not hear of anything else. 

“ John, as I long to believe that someone has 
taught, and clothed, and fed, and shielded our 
Philip, I must do something for these children 
so peculiarly brought home to us. We know 
they would drop back to their homelessness and 
slums if we do not reach out a hand to help, 
and it must be done. This hunt for Philip 
shall not be fruitless. We may never find him, 


i 


94 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


but these little fellows shall reap a benefit from 
it.” 

So, as each one they had decided to take had 
come, she had taken him into her home, fed him, 
clothed him, and taught him for awhile, and 
handed him over to the carefully selected farm 
home she had found for him. Each boy left 
her with a name according to the letter of 
Philips’ name which fell to his lot, and it was 
understood by the family to whom he went that 
he was to keep that name. So in pleasant farm 
homes near Boston she now had a Paul, and a 
Hubert, an Isaac, a Luke, and an Irving. Every 
Thanksgiving the little fellows were sent for to 
spend the day at the Leicesters’ house, and there 
they heard the story of Philip and of their own 
taking, and were talked to, and dined, and 
amused until each one always went home with 
a determination to be a good boy and make a 
man of himself. 

Mrs. Leicester said she only meant to take 
one more boy, because she thought it hard to 
get a real home for older boys, but she meant to 


SOME OTHER PHILIP. 


95 


help older boys, as many of them and as often 
as she could. 

“Well, well,” said Miss McKenzie, after 
thinking over some of the incidents told by 
Mrs. Leicester, relative to Irving, “you’d like 
Miss Joyce. You ought to see her and her boys. 
She’s only a young thing, but she certainly does 
have a wonderful knack "with boys. Land, why, 
I just hate a boy ! ” but she smiled so benevo- 
lently that she failed to rouse any feelings of 
horror in the breasts of the two mothers of boys 
listening to her. 


CHAPTER VII. 


A NEW FRIEND. 

There was some little question in the young 
lady’s mind as to just how she should safely 
cross Scollay Square. Boston mud is not to be 
lightly overlooked, and Scollay Square is as 
mean and muddy a square, when there is any 
mud, as is to be found in any ward in Boston. 
Miss Joyce stood on the corner of Court Street 
and Cornhill, looking irresolutely at the be- 
draggled old worthy on his stone pedestal, and 
wished she were not so encumbered with 
bundles. 

A little boy leaning up against the corner 
store was watching her. Every one that passed 
looked at him, but he didn’t notice it ; he was so 
used to manifestations of that sort that they 
failed to attract his attention. He was wonder- 


A NEW FRIEND. 


97 


ing, in an amused way, what the young lady 
was going to do about crossing the square. He 
moved around where he could see her face, and 
her bright, half-laughing expression made him 
smile sympathetically. 

If a certain little damsel, named Gladys, could 
have come up the street at that moment, she 
would have recognized the boy whose lucky 
farthing she still treasured, even though he had 
grown much taller and his hair had been cut 
short. Short though it was, it was long enough 
to make a golden halo around his face under 
his tight-fitting little round cap. 

The beautiful curve of his lips, the firm, 
honest chin, the wonderful coloring, the pleas- 
ant, deep-gray eyes that seemed to flash out bits 
of color like the sea and the sky, the dark 
lashes would have been noticed at once by the 
most casual observer ; but a reader of faces 
would have been more attracted by the kindly, 
friendly expression, and by the touch of dignity 
and reticence, noticeable in such a mere boy. 

Philip was eleven years old, and it was the 


98 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


ve$y day in May on which he had last seen his 
mother’s smile, and here he was in Scollay 
Square, Boston, watching a young lady who 
was to give his life’s wheel another turn; but 
little he cared for the month of May. 

“ Won’t you let me carry some of your 
bundles for you across the square ? ” 

The musical tones of the boy startled Miss 
Joyce ; but when she looked down and saw the 
graceful little fellow, cap in hand, by her side, 
and saw the expression of sympathetic amuse- 
ment on his face, she smiled gratefully back, 
and gave him half her bundles. They started 
across the square, under one horse’s head and 
then another, the mud making them slip in the 
most contradictory directions, until they gained 
the opposite side of the street. Philip was 
going to hand back the bundles and run, but 
Miss Joyce had no intention of letting the boy 
off so easily. 

“ Don’t go just this minute,” she said ; “ wait 
till my car comes. Are you in a hurry?” 

Philip shook his head. 



MISS JOYCE MEETS PHILIP. 










A NEW FRIEND. 


99 


“ How good it was of you to carry my 
bundles ! I don’t believe I ever had so many 
before. What is your name ? ” 

“ Philip.” 

The boy puzzled her tremendously. She 
could see by his shoes and by the careless, lialf- 
raggedness of his jacket that he came from no 
family where she might reasonably expect just 
such a face. Philip’s clothes looked well. He 
could wear anything and it would look well on 
him ; and his clothes fitted, for, much to Tony’s 
amusement, he insisted on buying clothes of a 
“ good cut,” even if there was no wear in them. 

“ Philip what ? ” 

“ Oh, Philip King,” he answered, thinking 
of the programme’s u Philip King Faro,” and 
deciding hastily to omit the Faro. 

“ Philip, my king,” she thought, and said 
aloud : “ Well, now, Philip, if you will excuse 
the liberty, I would like ever so much to get 
acquainted with you. I know lots of boys. I 
live at Brookline — just the house boys always 
like. May I ask you to come and see me ? If 


100 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


you could come? Would it be too much to 
ask you to come out — let me see, to-day is 
Friday. Can’t you come Sunday, and take 
dinner with me, and spend the afternoon or as 
long as you like ? You can go when you are 
tired,” with the humorous smile that had so 
fascinated Philip in the first place. “ Do say 
you will come. Here is my card ; let me 
expect you ? ” pleadingly. 

Philip nodded, handed the bundles into the 
car for her, smiled good-by, took off his cap, and 
jumped off while the car was in motion. 

“ What a beautiful boy ! ” was murmured 
through the car. 

Miss J oyce puzzled and wondered all the way 
home. Who was that boy ? Where could he 
come from ? Wherever did he get such a face, 
such a manner, such a figure ? 

Of course she wouldn’t see him again. Yes, 
she would, too. 

Philip walked back across the square. He 
must certainly contrive to see the young lady 
on Sunday. 


A NEW ERIEND. 


101 


“ She’s boss,” he said aloud. 

“ Who’s boss ? ” Tony came up behind him 
and clapped him on the shoulder. It was just 
the same Tony, with his happy-go-lucky manner 
and broad smile. He was fourteen, but very 
little taller than Philip. People often wondered 
to see a boy of Philip’s appearance walking 
sociably with the shambling boy, usually smok- 
ing, who seemed marked all over as a loafer 
and embryonic villain. 

The boys were as devoted to each other as 
ever. Tony was Philip’s slave. He adored 
the boy’s beauty. He loved him with all his 
black little heart. 

Philip looked up to Tony gratefully as his 
protector. Boy as he was, Tony was a match 
for any one when it came to a question of 
Philip’s rights and privileges. Philip recog- 
nized that nearly all his benefits in life had 
come from Tony, and by reason of Tony’s 
loyal, enduring affection. 

Tony also exercised a rather laughable super- 
vision over Philip. With apparently no con- 


102 


PHILrP LEICESTER. 


science worth mentioning in regard to himself, 
he had spasms of being strikingly particular 
about Philip. 

He took great pains to have Philip learn to 
smoke, and because the boy refused absolutely 
to use the dirty cast-off cigar stumps in which 
Tony indulged, simply because they were dirty, 
Philip was to be bought whole new ones. 
However, he had no sooner initiated Philip 
into the smoker’s paradise than he happened to 
read in one of the rare bits of literature he 
deigned to look at that smoking stunted a 
boy’s growth. He never thought of applying 
the moral to himself — not at all ; he already 
prided himself on being a confirmed smoker ; 
but he was particularly proud of Philip’s 
straightness and tallness, and he promptly de- 
cided that Philip should by no means smoke 
until he was through growing, a great depriva- 
tion, to be sure, but quite in the interests of the 
true and the beautiful. The decision was 
announced to Philip with all of Tony’s usual 
force and elegance of expression. 


A NEW FRIEND. 


103 


“ Philip, me boy, smoke another thing and 
I’ll lam the head right offen yer. I aint goin’ 
to have you no undersized lummox like me ! 
Understand ! ” 

Philip acquiesced easily. He always deferred 
to Tony. Tony had been brought up on beer, 
ale, and porter since his baby days, and was 
not fond of the water limitations that he found 
somewhat forced upon him in Boston. But in 
one of the short sessions in school which his 
managers had not been able to evade, he saw 
some charts representing the brain, heart, and 
stomach of a drinking man, as compared with 
those of a man in health. The pictures made 
a great impression on him ; he was the most 
eager questioner. Not for himself — not at 
all. He should drink what and when he could. 
But Philip — “Philip shouldn’t have no such 
messy things inside o’ him. Not ef he knowed 
it,” and Philip was straightway put under a 
cold water regime that would have satisfied a 
prohibitionist. 

“ Who’s boss, kid ? ” 


104 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ Oh, a young lady — nice one, and, say, 
Tony,” confidentially, “ she asked me to go to 
her house Sunday to dinner, and I ain’t fit, and, 
say, how can I fix up ? ” 

Tony had to have all the particulars. 

“ Brookline ? Swell place, likely. Fix up ? 
Oh, you dandy ! ” 

“ Don’t, Tony,” Philip smiled in an em- 
barrassed way. “ But I want to look all right, 
and my coat’s all tore, and all — help a fellar, 
Tony?” 

“Well, kid, I’ll lend you my jewelry.” 
Tony’s only outlay in the dress line was for 
watch charms of size and weight, large scarf pins, 
and rings. 

Philip laughed. “ Rather have a clean shirt 
waist, and decent jacket, and stockings, and 
shoes. Tony, can’t you make Nick shell out a 
little ? ” 

“ We-e-e-11, we’ll see. Nick’s in pretty deep 
at pool and poker. I dun-no. He makes a lot 
outen us, sure's you’re born.” 

Philip shrugged his shoulders. He had 


A NEW FRIEND. 


105 


never had an overweening affection for Nick. 
Nick was the expert tumbler with whom Tony 
had clubbed his own and Philip’s fortunes on 
going to the United States. They had sailed 
straight to Boston, and, within a week from the 
day they landed, Nick had made an engagement 
for himself and the two boys at Hart’s Theatre, 
a ten-cent theatre off Tremont Row. He repre- 
sented that the boys were his brothers, a story 
so very unlikely as regarded Philip that no one 
thought of believing it. But it was not a ques- 
tion of any importance to anybody. The money 
for their services was paid to Nick, and he lived 
royally after providing for their barest needs. 
Tony himself was beginning to feel rather 
restive. He was beginning to have many uses 
for money himself, and he did not appreciate 
having his earnings running into Nick’s pockets. 

“ Yes, I suppose you do need a jacket and 
things, and breeches, too.” 

Tony’s meditations were of such a forceful 
character that they resulted in his presenting 
his claim to the manager, who good-naturedly 


106 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


paid his own and Philip’s money. With the 
combined sum, Philip was able to recruit his 
scanty wardrobe. 

So Sunday morning Philip in his new apparel, 
with Tony, all admiration, beside him, walked 
over to Brookline. They found the house, and 
Tony waited at the corner until he saw the 
door open and then close upon the entering 
Philip. 

“ I am so glad to see you, Philip. Come 
right in. John, this is Philip.” 

Philip never forgot the cordial handclasp, the 
pleasant air of the hall, the drawn portieres, the 
deep bay window of the sitting-room, the sofa 
and rich-colored afghan, and the eager-faced 
little boy lying on it. 

“ John is seven years old, Philip,” said Miss 
Joyce, as Philip shook hands with the boy ; “ he 
doesn’t walk, because he was hurt a few months 
ago. His mother lets him stay here with me 
until he is better. He has been very anxious 
to see you.” 

“ Poor little fellow ! ” said Philip sympatheti- 


A NEW FRIEND. 


107 


cally. Never you mind, John ; you’ll be up 
soon.” 

John’s eyes were riveted on Philip’s face. 

“ O Miss Joyce,” he half sighed at last, “ain’t 
he jus’ the loveliest boy?” 

Miss Joyce gave John a picture-book, and then 
took Philip to the library. The air of the house 
was as balm to Philip’s soul. She showed him 
books and pictures, and soon discovered that, 
though he was remarkably bright, he knew 
nothing that a boy of his age and appearance 
ought to know. Then she found that he was a 
theatre boy and played at the rather disreputa- 
ble Hart Theatre. She realized, with sudden- 
ness and intensity, something of what his 
surroundings must be. 

She could not have imagined all that was 
really so, but she had a sickening consciousness 
of the unusual danger of the boy’s position. His 
very beauty would make it worse. He might 
be not much harmed now — the fair face, the 
honest eyes, the frank expression made her 
fain believe so — but that could not go on 


108 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


forever. The taint must come. What could 
she do? 

Hardly knowing he did so, Philip told his 
little story, and if Miss Joyce had expected to 
find some fitting background for such a face her 
expectation was laid in wreck around her. 

And the good dinner they had ! Philip had 
never in his life sat down to a table the like of 
that. The curtains were drawn back, so that 
J ohn could look in and hear all they said. The 
table astonished Philip, the table linen was so 
snowy white, and the silver shone so, and the 
flowers were so fragrant, and the things to 
eat — Philip knew he had never tasted such 
good things. And Miss Joyce made him feel 
so much at home, and told such funny stories, 
and he liked her so well. He always remem- 
bered that day as until then the safest, best, 
happiest day of his life. Some way he found 
himself placing it with his one beautiful memory, 
the memory of a sweet, fresh little face, smiling 
up into his, the dark eyes and dark hair, and 
the happy little voice telling all sorts of inno- 


A NEW FRIEND. 


109 


cent little things he liked to hear. For weeks 
and weeks he had put himself to sleep thinking 
of the soft little fingers, and the pleading look 
and voice, when she begged him not to go away 
from her. He had always had the feeling that 
he must be a pretty good sort of a boy when he 
thought of her — thought of that sweetest and 
best thing in his life — and he couldn’t always 
mix up thoughts of her with other things which 
had not left him quite so good a boy. 

Miss Joyce thought and thought ; what could 
she do ? What could she say ? This might be 
the chance of her lifetime ; and before he 
went home, while she was showing him a hand- 
some book, she stopped, and, leaning her arms 
on the high, carved desk beside her, she looked 
down earnestly into the boy’s eyes. 

“Philip, you are just a little boy now. I 
w i s h — I do wish I could say something — ” 

But she couldn’t. “ Just like you, you never 
can use an opportunity,” she thought to her- 
self. 

The boy looked up at her, a new light in his 


110 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


eyes, and, smiling sympathetically, said quickly, 
“ I know what you want — you want me to be 
good. Yes, and I will try, too ! ” 

She was very much surprised. She could 
not have explained her feelings just at the 
moment. But she knew a good deal about 
boys, boys of that class, newsboys and boot- 
blacks, and, worse yet, little do-nothings, but 
boys whom she dimly felt had had more advan- 
tages in moral lines than Philip could pos- 
sibly have had ; yet none of those boys could 
have fallen in so quickly with her thought. 
She had been accustomed to playing them as 
an angler would trout ; going over and over an 
idea she wished to have penetrate their brains, 
in different ways, for weeks, interesting them, 
arousing them, awakening something like con- 
science in them, overcoming all sorts of stub- 
born little likings for things that were crooked, 
just because they were crooked, reasoning, ex- 
plaining, humoring ; and yet here was this boy, 
sympathetic, understanding at once, evidently 
wishing the good, whether he rightly under- 


A NEW FRIEND. 


Ill 


stood all that meant or not. She was young, 
but intensely interested in social problems, 
in educational questions, in psychological dis- 
tinctions, in all the difficulties of heredity, 
religious instincts, and religious training. She 
had thought a great deal, and had read a great 
deal, but this little fellow contradicted every- 
thing. 

“ How did you know, Philip ? ” 

“Just felt it, I ken.” 

“ Do you ever go to church ? ” 

“ I never was in a church. I sort of wanted 
to, but Tony doesna like kirks.” 

“ Do you,” she hesitated, “ do you know any- 
thing, were you ever taught anything about 
God?” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” 

That was better ; perhaps she would get at 
the key. 

“ What do you think when you think of 
God. What is in your mind?” 

“ Oh, I don’t think of Him — He kills peo- 
ple.” 


112 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


The reply was perfectly frank and uncon- 
cerned. She knew boys who would have said 
a thing like that to be funny. She fairly ached, 
she felt so badly. 

“Listen to this, Philip,’’ and very reverently 
she repeated, “ ‘ For God so loved the world 
that He gave His only begotten Son, that who- 
soever believeth on Him should not perish, but 
have everlasting life.’ ” 

Philip’s face was a study. 

“My,” he said finally, “who is His Son?” 

“ Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.” 

“ Gee whiz ! ” he burst out ; “ is He His Son? 
Why, I thought He was dead ! ” 

“Oh, you poor little boy,” said Miss Joyce, 
involuntarily. “ Philip, you must know some- 
thing about all this; a very, very little will 
do, if you care and want to understand. And, 
as we get better acquainted — for, Philip, you 
must come to me, and let me be your friend, 
and help you, and teach you — I can tell you 
more and see better what you ought to know. 
Only to-day, Philip, just get this in your heart: 


A NEW FRIEND. 


113 


God is love, and He cares for us, and sent His 
Son to die for us, and save us ; and we must 
long with our whole hearts to be good, and true, 
and pure, the way He wants us to be, and 
meant us to be.” 

She didn’t say any more about it, but tried 
to entertain him and John, and the afternoon 
was gone before he was quite sure it had begun. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A DIFFICULT QUESTION. 

“ O Tony, just the great time ! Wish you 
could have seen that house, and the good things 
we had to eat ! And, John, he’s a little lame 
boy, awful nice little boy. And she’s — well 
— she’s — she’s immense ! ” 

Tony had never seen Philip so enthusiastic, 
and he entered into the spirit of the occasion 
with great good-will. 

“ What’d you have to eat ? ” 

“ Oh, fried chicken ; no, soup first, then fried 
chicken, and mashed potatoes, and gravy, and 
peas, and tomatoes, and some soH of little 
biscuits, and bread and butter, and jelly, and 
pickles, and — and pineapple jelly with cream 
on it, and lemon-pie, and pineapples, and white 
grapes. And I didn’t know there would be 


114 


A DIFFICULT QUESTION. 


115 


more after the soup, and I was going to just 
stuff myself on that, it was so good ; and John 
called in : 4 Philip, there’s more things after the 
soup; I thought that was all, too, first time.’ 
Wasn’t he smart? Only seven! And look, 
Tony,” with the greatest pride, “ look what I 
brought you ! ” and Philip unbuttoned his 
jacket, and pulled out a paper. 

Tony opened it gingerly, and found himself 
the possessor of a huge slice of chocolate cake. 

“ Ain’t she boss, though, Tony ? She wants 
you to come out, too, and she wanted me to 
come out to a boys’ club they have there. 
‘Thinking Club,’ they call it, and that little 
John is the president, because he’s lame. Some 
of the boys are fourteen, but I told her I 
couldn’t, havin’ to play nights ; and she said 
come out next Sunday same as to-day. And 
the books, Tony, you’d ought to see ’em ! ” 

Tony was delighted with Philip’s warm 
reception, and enjoyed the thought of his pleas- 
ure, but he decided privately that he would 
leave Brookline religiously to Philip. He felt 


116 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


sure lie would find it pretty “ slow ” out there ; 
even the good dinner didn’t seem to him quite 
so attractive as boiled pork and greens in other 
company. 

And the next Sunday afternoon, when the 
hour came to which Philip had been looking 
forward all the week, Tony stoutly insisted that 
he had “ an engagement with two fellows to go 
up the river,” and that Philip must go to 
Brookline alone. However, he produced a 
great orange which he had bought for Philip to 
take to John. 

Philip, armed with his orange, presented him- 
self again at the Joyce mansion. 

“ And Tony sent this orange to John, Miss 
Joyce,” said Philip, with shining eyes ; “ he 
had to go up the river with a couple of fellows, 
and couldn’t come, but he sent the orange to 
John.” 

Miss Joyce felt her heart sink within her. 
She was sure that Tony had not come because 
he did not want to ; and he was Philip’s hero ; 
and it didn’t seem possible from things Philip 


A DIFFICULT QUESTION. 


117 


had said that he could be anything but a had 
boy. What should she do ? what should she do ? 

Could it be possible that this boy, with the 
beautiful face, and beautiful voice, and winning 
manners, could be already on the road that ends 
in moral and physical ruin? Could he be 
already familiar — those beautiful lips — with 
bad words and bad talk, with tobacco and beer, 
and all such things ? 

“ Did you ever smoke, Philip ? ” she asked in 
as careless a manner as she could assume. 

w Oh, yes, indeed,” was the cheerful answer. 
“ Tony had me learn quite a little.” 

Miss Joyce had not thought this answer, 
which she certainly expected, could possibly 
have hurt her so. 

“ They say it isn’t a good thing, especially 
for boys.” 

“ Just what Tony says ! He made me stop. 
He said I shouldn’t touch another tobacco 
thing — pipe, nor cigarette, nor cigar, nor chew, 
until I was through growing. Tony just put 
his foot down square.” 


118 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ Did lie give it up ? ” 

“ Oh, my, no ! ” with a laugh. “ Tony would 
think he couldn’t quit.” 

“ Why did you stop ? ” 

“ Why, I would do what Tony says, of 
course ! Of course I would. I didn’t think 
it was any fun, anyway — so smelly and dirty, 
I think, but other folks don’t seem to think so.” 

“ I think so. I believe it would nearly break 
my heart if I thought you would smoke or be 
bad in any way.” 

Miss Joyce spoke so earnestly that Philip 
started, then reddened. 

“ Well, I wouldn’t smoke, anyway, if it made 
you feel bad,” he hesitated. 

“ Does Tony drink — beer and things ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed, when he can get them — strong 
things, you know, mixed drinks and all; the 
men say he has a wonderful head for a boy ! 
But,” with a sad, worried look in his eyes that 
made him doubly beautiful, “I’ve wished he 
wouldn’t so — strong things — or much — for he 
gets — silly — sometimes — and — it’s awful. I 


A DIFFICULT QUESTION. 


119 


thought I cried hours the first time it was real 
bad. But it wasn’t often, you know, for his 
head’s so strong ; but he says it is foolish to get 
that way, and he only means to drink what he 
can stand.” 

Miss Joyce felt sick from head to foot. 

“ Did he have you drink ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, beer and things — mild things and 
not much. But he put his foot down on that, 
and says I shan’t touch a drop of anything of 
the kind — not one drop — just must drink 
water. And I didn’t care $ I never liked the 
taste of any of ’em.” 

Miss Joyce felt personally grateful to this 
queer, queer Tony. 

“ Why did he stop you ? ” 

“ He said it would make my stomach messy 
inside, or something.” 

“ Why doesn’t he stop, too ? ” 

“ Oh, he couldn’t. And he doesn’t care about 
his stomach,” with a laugh; “ it’s my stomach 
he’s interested in ! ” 

“ Philip, what can we do for Tony ? ” 


120 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


It seemed to Miss Joyce that there was 
something about all this pathetic and tragic to 
the last degree, and her voice bore witness to 
her deep feeling. 

“ What can we do for Tony ? He has done 
so much for you. You can’t realize it now. 
You will some day, and wonder — wonder at it 
all ! Why, Philip, Tony will be ruined before 
he is twenty ; no boy can stand such things ! It 
is terrible, terrible. Can’t you try to get him 
out here ? Can’t we interest him in something ? 
Can’t you help him ? He must love you with 
all his heart. Why, Philip, if you could only 
realize what terrible danger he is in, your best 
friend. I never heard of a boy having so good 
a friend ! Do you know, Philip, I talk to my 
boys so much about tobacco, and liquor, and 
about the danger and evil of it ? ” 

And then she went on and talked to Philip. 
It was like opening a new world of thought to 
the boy. It had never occurred to him before 
that people cared what other people did. He 
supposed that people looked on and saw others 


A DIFFICULT QUESTION. 


121 


poor, and miserable, and wicked, and cared noth- 
ing for it all. That people looked on and saw 
others ruin themselves by drink, as he had seen 
people ruined, and cared nothing for it all. 
And now he learned that a constantly increas- 
ing body of people were banding themselves 
together to fight what they called the drink 
curse — the liquor evil. That they meant to 
persuade people that it was wrong and hurtful 
to drink, and so make them give it up them- 
selves. That they also meant to work con- 
stantly toward the end of preventing the liquor 
from being made and sold. 

“ Why, of course that’s the best way, if it 
does so much harm ! ” said Philip promptly, 
when that side of the question came up ; and 
Miss Joyce smiled. 

He learned that they meant to get hold of 
the children and teach them how great an 
evil the liquor traffic was, so that they would 
hate it for themselves and for others, and when 
they were grown would use their votes and 
their influence against it. 


122 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ Well, of course ! ” said Philip energetically, 
“ I should think so. I • will, sure ! I didn’t 
know anybody cared except to be down on a 
man who didn’t have a strong head.” 

Miss J oyce got out her physiology charts and 
showed him the most amazing pictures of his 
“ insides,” as he called them, and of the effect 
liquor had on the human system. 

“ And Tony — Philip, use all the brains you 
have to help Tony. You alone can do it. I 
am positive of that. Nobody but you, Philip, 
to stand between Tony and ruin — ruin. I 
mean it. The word don’t half say it ! ” 

Things seemed to have turned around for 
Philip. He hardly knew what to make of it. 
In all his recollection it had always been Tony 
who helped him. Tony had been his guardian 
in every way. He had always expressed his 
affection and appreciation by simply doing as 
Tony said, and fagging for him when oppor- 
tunity offered. Now he was to — what? Save 
Tony. Save him ? How could he ? 

A grave responsibility seemed to have 


A DIFFICULT QUESTION. 


123 


acquired possession of him, and it was in some 
ways a changed Philip who went back to their 
dingy mite of a hall bedroom, where all that 
was theirs was stored. 

Tony had not come in, and Philip waited 
apprehensively. When Tony came he was 
rather pale and grumpy, and smelled more than 
usual of tobacco and drink. 

He avoided meeting Philip’s eyes, and, 
muttering something about being tired, threw 
himself on the ill-kept bed. 

Philip had seen this often before, and, fearing 
that Tony at such times did not feel well, had 
felt sorry. Now everything seemed different. 
He looked at things with new eyes. Ruin — 
ruin — the words would not go away from him. 

Tony was soon asleep, breathing uneasily. 
He would wake up with a headache in the 
morning. Philip knew that. The light, fast 
fading, came in dimly through the dirty window. 
Philip lit the candle, and it guttered and 
sputtered in an unsnuffed, disconsolate way. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed and 


124 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


watched Tony. A new watch for him, new 
thoughts, new desires, a new life, — but so 
terrible. Oh, to throw it oft and only think of 
the morrow when Tony would be himself and 
all right ! He looked at the rough, shocky hair, 
the freckled, though now pale face, the wide, 
mouth. It was Tony — good Tony. Tony 
who had fought for him, and protected him, 
and made him first always, and taken care of 
him, when he was sick, and spent money for 
him, and denied himself for him. What hadn’t 
he done for him ? How could Tony be ruined? 
Would he get drunk regularly after awhile? 
Why, Tony wasn’t much taller than Philip him- 
self, if he was fourteen. How could anything 
be so cruel as to hurt Tony ? But Tony was 
hurt now. Yes, that wasn’t right — for him to 
feel so, and come in so, and sleep so. Some- 
thing was wrong even now. 

Philip was such a light-hearted, hopeful, 
cheerful boy that his worst troubles had rolled 
off him easily. Now the trouble seemed inside. 
It couldn’t be put away. He seemed to feel the 


A DIFFICULT QUESTION. 


125 


very dregs of misery — of hopeless, endless 
misery. 

Tony had taught him that God lived in the 
sky; that Jesus Christ had lived a few years 
before and had died on a cross in London ; and 
that good people prayed, and now that Philip 
had gained the new idea that God was love he 
wanted to pray, and in his misery knelt as Tony 
had taught him, according to a picture of little 
Samuel, and prayed to God with his whole 
heart in the words — the only ones he knew : — 

“ Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, 

Bless the bed that I lie on.” 

He was conscious of the dissimilarity between 
the words and his thought, but he felt better 
for it. It seemed as though the great God 
would help him, and, worn out with his new 
taste of sorrow, he fell asleep. And his mother 
was such a little distance from him — such a 
few miles — telling Lloyd as he went to bed of 
the love of Christ for him, and hearing his 
prayers — the prayers of a well-taught, Chris- 


126 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


tian child, while her Philip, little heathen, 
prayed to Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. 

Philip woke early the next morning and 
fixed the room to look as neat as he could. 
He went for fresh water and filled the tub they 
used. Then he sat on the bed and stroked 
Tony’s head until he woke up. 

“ Poor Tony, my poor old Tony — got a 
headache ? ” 

“ Git out with you. Yes, my head’s splitten. 
How d’you know ? ” 

“ Here’s fresh water for you and I’m going 
for something.” 

While Tony was performing his ablutions 
and feeling better for the performance, Philip 
brought up a pail of strong, hot soup and some 
rolls, and Tony found that he had a fine 
appetite for precisely that breakfast. 

“ You were awful cross last night, Tony.” 

“ I know it. Them fellars had some whiskey 
in something, and they gave me too much a 
purpose. They didn’t know I had any too 
much, though. I was too sharp for ’em.” 


A DIFFICULT QUESTION. 


127 


“ I thought I could cry my heart out, I felt 
so bad,” stammered Philip awkwardly. 

“You!” exclaimed Tony, spoon in air, and 
spilling his soup in astonishment. “ What fur ? ” 

“Because you were — that — way. You’ll 
hurt yourself, and I can’t bear it.” 

“ Are you sick, Poke ? Stick out your 
tongue,” and Tony looked so anxious that 
Philip couldn’t help laughing. 

“ No, but it’s awful. Think of old Kempton, 
and Dan Combs, and Grandy Hopper, and even 
Nick here. I’d die , Tony, if you went that 
way.” 

“ Ho ! ” said Tony, much relieved. “ Don’t 
you fret ; weak heads, all of ’em.” 

“ Your father’s wasn’t.” 

“No; tough, wasn’t he? Well, I ain’t any 
like him. I wouldn’t hurt anything if I could 
help it, and hurting things was food and drink 
to him.” 

Philip didn’t know what to say. Things 
looked different by daylight. 

“ But, Tony, you wouldn’t let me touch such 


128 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


things on account of my insides, and if it would 
hurt mine it would hurt yours.” 

Philip felt some pride in his argument and it 
showed. 

Tony looked at him meditatively for a short 
space. 

“ See here — you — Poke. That woman 
been talkin’ to you?” 

Philip nodded and promptly told all he could 
remember of her remarks. Tony listened 
attentively, and finally signified his approval. 

“ That’s all right. She must know a heap ; 
just you take it all in. I’d oughter knowed 
enough to tell you myself. You mind what 
she says abouten it, but don’t you get to 
thinkin’ it means me. I’m different stuff. I 
ain’t got no concern to know any of that talk 
for me. I’d like first rate to see her, but I aint 
goin’ to have her preachin’ to me, and if she’s 
goin’ to lay down her notions to me fur me to 
benefit by, I aint a-goin’ near her. But if 
she’ll talk ordinary, I’d lay out to put up with 
it for half an hour or so.” 


A DIFFICULT QUESTION. 


129 


Half a loaf was always better than no bread 
to Philip, and, seeing Miss Joyce soon after on 
the street, he frankly explained to her Tony’s 
position. Miss Joyce profited by this new 
view of the situation, and, inviting both boys 
out to an early tea, confined herself strictly to 
general conversation and to being amusing. 

She was a great surprise to Tony, and his 
endurance widened into pleasure, and his half 
hour to three hours, and when he left the house 
he had no hesitation about admitting his changed 
attitude of mind. 

“ She is boss, Philip, fur a fact ! You’re in 
luck to know her, and she’s a mighty nice lady 
fur you to know ! Don’t you never do nothin’ 
fur to displease her. Her gettin’ up such a 
good dinner and all, and being so good to that 
nice little John ! I’ll just buy him suthing 
pretty, I will, so ! Nicest little fellar I ever did 
see, after you. But all the same I ain’t got no 
manner of use fur her myself, and don’t calc’late 
to see her no more. I wadna live gin I had to 
live sic a way.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


OUT OF SHOW LIFE. 

Miss Joyce saw Philip frequently after their 
acquaintance was fairly begun. If the boy 
puzzled her at first, he became a mystery to her 
as she knew him better, but of one thing she 
became certain, the boy had remarkable ability, 
and in his present position would come to little 
short of ruin. His only ties were to Nick, for 
whom he cared nothing, and to Tony, to whom 
he was devoted. She interested him in books, 
and did everything in her power to arouse in 
him a desire to become something better than a 
hanger-on in a theatre. She became more ac- 
quainted with Tony, and she recognized that in 
him she would find her greatest supporter or 
most determined enemy. She sent for him one 
day to come out and see her alone. “ Tony,” 


130 


OUT OF SHOW LIFE. 


131 


she began, when opportunity offered, 44 what 
do you think about Philip ? You know more 
about him than any one else.” 

Tony always felt somewhat impressed by 
Miss Joyce, but he also felt somewhat combat- 
ive. He suspected that his interests and hers 
in Philip might clash. 

44 Yes’m ; there’s no un for Philip but me, and 
no un for me but Philip,” with a decided shake 
of his shock head. 

“ That’s just it, Tony.” 

Miss Joyce felt as though she were walking 
in the dark. 

44 And I want to know what you think will 
become of him. He is eleven years old. His 
beauty is marvellous, and he is very bright.” 

44 He has a long head on ’im,” assented Tony 
meditatively. 

44 And what is he coming to ? That theatre 
is no place for him ; his tastes don’t run in that 
way. He likes books.” 

44 I’m alius tellin’ him to let readin’ alone, 
ma’am,” apologetically, 44 but he will be after it.” 


132 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“Well, Tony, what I want to know is this : if 
Philip could be put in a position where he could 
have an education, and grow to be an honorable 
man — with money, and good clothes, and in- 
fluence — don’t you think it ought to be done ? ” 

While Miss Joyce was speaking, Tony’s face 
was a study. It began to dawn over him that 
this might be the first steps in some plan to 
take Philip away from him. 

The slight description of Philip’s future as a 
man among men fired all Tony’s ambition. He 
had no ambition for himself, but his ambition 
for Philip was endless. 

Then he saw the awful contrast. Respect 
and honor might do for Philip, but Tony felt, 
with the most sickening sense of despair he had 
ever known, that there was no such thing for 
him, the homely, undergrown little acrobat, 
whom the worst men he 'knew said, with a 
laugh, “was as bad as they made ’em. A 
regular bad un right through.” 

He felt it all in an instant. Should he keep 
Philip, his idol, or let him go ? 


OUT OF SHOW LIFE. 


133 


It was a terrible moment for the boy. It 
was liis first acquaintance with real thought. 

He tried to speak. He could not. He felt 
terrified at the awful thing that was going to 
happen to him. His under lip trembled, and 
then, with a perfect abandon of grief, he put 
His head down on his arms on the table and 
sobbed and sobbed. He was only a little boy, 
after all. Miss Joyce realized something of his 
struggle. She put her arm around him, and 
smoothed his hair, and comforted him, as she 
would have tried to soothe a baby or the poor 
little aching cripple in the next room. 

“ Poor little boy ! My dear little boy ! It 
will all be all right.” 

And the strange newness of the soft, loving 
voice, the kind words to him • — Tony — who 
had never heard anything like it in his life. 
“ My dear little boy.” He gulped down his 
tears and his sobs and kept perfectly still. 

Miss Joyce’s hand patted the hot, throbbing 
head, and she talked on for awhile about Philip, 
and his future, and about Tony. u You can 


184 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


keep him down or help him up and on — which 
shall it be, Tony ? ” 

“Oh, I know,” came a muffled voice. “I 
knowed right off he’d ’ave to go. I want him to 
’ave a lot of money, and all — oh ! ” the voice 
stopped in a sob. “ How’ll it happen ? 

And Miss Joyce told him of a fine school 
where he could go on a scholarship. 

“But there’ll be clothes, and books, and 
money to spend ; he won’t be makin’ nothin’ out 
there, will he ? ” 

“We can fix all that some way if you will 
only be willing to help him. He has owed 
everything he has ever had, he says, to you; now 
you can give him the best chance of all, or take 
it away from him. He is sure to do as you say.” 

“ Oh, he’ll have to go,” groaned Tony. “ I 
don’t see how I can get along one whole day 
without looking at him.” 

When he went back to Philip he was gloomy 
and silent, and stared at Philip until Philip put 
his hand over his eyes, saying, “ Quit it, Tony ; 
tell a fellar what’s the matter.” 


OUT OF SHOW LIFE. 


135 


“It’s that confounded Miss Joyce,” burst out 
Tony ; “ why can’t she mind her own business, 
anyway? Bobbin’ around like an apple in a 
bowl o’ water ! I aint never hurt her ! ” 

“ Go on ; tell me, Tony.” 

“ Oh, shucks, I aint a-goin’ to do such a 
thing,” and he kicked the stone rampart of the 
bridge, against w^hich they were leaning, as 
they gazed off down the river. “What she 
want to be stirrin’ things up all the time fur? 
I aint had no peace at all since she first set eyes 
on you. I can jes’ feel how mad old Kempton 
used to get when folks was always turnin’ up 
speerin’ about you, when they hadn’t no 
business about you at all.” 

“ Go on, Tony ; what’d she want? ” 

“ Oh, she’s all down on a show, nice show 
like our’n, too, and us kind steady ; and she 
says it won’t suit you, and you just as suited and 
jolly’s you can be. She says you ought to go to 
school, and here you been to school twice since 
you been here, and she says more rubbish ; how 
she could send you to school, and where ’d I be ? ” 


136 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


44 Wouldn’t you go, too? ” 

44 Oh, come off ! ’ ’ 

Philip knew that was a silly question him- 
self. 

44 I’d like goin’ to school well enough, Tony, 
but nobody need think I’d leave you. I’d die ! ’ ’ 
Tony moodily watched a rowboat shoot into 
the blackness under the bridge, and then said 
viciously, 44 Oh, you ! you’d die a lot ! You 
know you want to go.” 

44 1 don’t.” 

44 Well, you’re goin’, anyway.” 

44 I’m not.” 

44 Oh, I tell you you are ! ” 

44 Who’s able to make me leave you ? ” 

44 Me.” 

44 You wouldn’t make me go, Tony ! ” 

44 Yes, I would — confound her ! ” 

44 1 rather stay with you.” 

44 Well, she says you can be rich and a big 
gun, and everything, or something or other ; 
anyway, she made me think if I didn’t send you 
I’d be wronging you.” 


OUT OF SHOW LIFE. 


137 


“ You wouldn’t either.” 

“Well, I said you could go. She says she 
knows the school. Has she talked to you about 
it ? ” suspiciously. 

“ No, not a word.” 

“ Don’t know as it would ’a’ made much 
difference if she had, only I should ’a’ thought 
she was cheating. It’s near Boston.” 

“ Who’s going to pay? ’’ 

“ She says its a scholarship she can get, some- 
thing free. But I’m going to save every cent I 
can for you ; I don’t want no charity.” 

“ I won’t take it, Tony ; if you get any money 
you’ve got to spend it on yourself.” 

Tony struck at Philip angrily, but Philip 
moved closer to him. 

“You’ve got to do jes as I say; that’s flat, 
Poke ! You needn’t to leave me and be sassy, 
too ! I know I can get my pay, instead of Nick, 
and I know I can get enough for your clothes, 
and money to spend. If you only stayed here 
you could ’a’ been a real swell like Nick, after 
awhile,” regretfully. 


138 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


Philip didn’t admire Nick’s style, and merely 
shrugged his shoulders. 

As they strolled back to their room, Tony’s 
arm around Philip’s shoulder, as was his favorite 
way of walking, he almost whispered in Philip’s 
ear : — 

“ You going to forget me, Philip, if I let you 
go?” 

Philip’s face reddened. 

“If you’re going to say things like that to 
me, I won’t go, whether you let me or not ! ” 

“Would you get to thinking mean of me?” 
persisted Tony. 

“ Quit, I say ! ” 

Tony turned Philip swiftly around so that 
they faced the large window of a second-hand 
store ; the window was filled with dark clothing, 
so that it made a very fair mirror in some 
lights. 

“Look there, Philip,” insisted Tony, “do you 
see ’em — that tarnation homebly, mean slouch 
of a cuss, — me, and that other one, handsome 
as a picture from top to toe, so s’t everybody’s 


OUT OF SHOW LIFE. 


139 


always staring at him, — you , and, tell me, will 
the sonsie Tittle lad stick by the ither one verra 
long, once he gets a chance to gang free frae 
him?” 

Philip began to laugh. 

“ I’ll stick to you till I die, Tony ; come on ! ” 
and his laughter was so infectious that Tony 
threw off his unaccustomed gloom and looked 
at the prospect of Philip’s going to school less 
funereally. 

And so it happened that Philip was suddenly 
transported into a new life. Miss Joyce had 
urged that the boy should be pushed to the 
utmost limit consistent with health. He had 
no time to lose, she thought. There was no 
telling what might happen. Tony had a grand 
and final row with Nick, and vindicated his 
right to receive his earnings himself. Then he 
saved them, oh, so carefully. His drinks were 
all given to him. He only smoked what he 
could get for nothing. He carried his first sav- 
ings to Miss Joyce. 

“ There, Miss Joyce, that’s for Philip. I want 


140 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


to pay what I can, myself. I wants him to 
have money to spend like them other fellars. 
Philip’s to have something , anyways ! ” 

Miss Joyce could hardly keep the tears back. 

“You must take it to him yourself, Tony, 
next Saturday.” 

Tony had never thought of going to see 
Philip, but the idea pleased him. He fixed 
himself up with his jewelry, and, with a feeling 
of uneasy anticipation, started on the morning 
train to see Philip. Miss Joyce had written to 
the principal of Tony’s visit, but with some 
misgivings. Surely the principal would not be 
favorably impressed with a youth of Tony’s 
appearance, and her well-meant plan might only 
end in Tony’s discomfiture. 

Philip had been in such a rush and hurry in 
his new surroundings, everything had been so 
strange to him, he had felt such an impetuous 
longing to learn things and get ahead, that he 
had hardly had time to think of the difference 
between the fellows he knew now and Tony. 
But when Tony wrote a terrible scrawl, to an- 


OUT OF SHOW LIFE. 


141 


nounce his visit, Philip felt the difference. He 
looked up the school hall, — all sorts of boys, some 
common enough looking boys, some with mean 
faces and ill shaped, but even the worst, well 
dressed and with some indefinable suggestion of 
good condition, of means, of refinement. And 
Philip found himself wondering what they 
would think of Tony. 

One boy had a particularly attractive face. 
He was about Philip’s size, though he was 
thirteen. But Philip was taller than any boy 
of his age in the school. The boy’s name was 
Chalmer Marshall, and Philip thought he was 
the nicest boy he had ever seen, and wished that 
he could be smart enough to get up to Chal- 
mer’s classes. But poor Philip did not know 
anything the other boys did. There were a 
great many stories afloat about Philip. Some 
said one thing and some another. The princi- 
pal kept his own counsel, and Philip told noth- 
ing. The ordinary school questions, “Where 
do you live?” and “Who is your father?” 
had received anything but satisfactory answers. 


142 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


Now Tony was coming. He could just see 
Tony’s scarf pin, and watch chain, and ring, and 
plaid suit, and he wondered, in an amused way, 
what the boys would think when they saw him. 

But when he went to the train and Tony 
stepped off, Philip never thought once what 
the boys on the platform would think. He was 
so glad to see him. And Tony, with an un- 
accustomed feeling of diffidence and embar- 
rassment, felt his whole heart leap with relief 
and gladness as he saw the happy light in 
Philip’s eyes, and felt the swift, warm pressure 
of the firm little hand. 

“ By Jiminy, Poke,” sputtered Tony, hardly 
able to contain himself, “ aint I a-rippin’ glad 
to see yer ? ’ ’ 

As they stopped a moment at the station, the 
other boys gazed in undisguised astonishment. 
Tony’s exclamation might have aroused their 
derision, but on looking at him, they were so 
impressed with the fact that he was “a tough,” 
not a big boy at all, and yet wearing so unaf- 
fectedly every mark of being a hard case, that 


OUT OF SHOW LIFE. 


143 


their first feeling was merged in one of secret 
admiration. Who could Philip be that he 
could be receiving in a friendly manner a boy 
of whom it was safe to say that what there was 
bad that he didn’t know wasn’t worth know- 
ing. 

Further up the street, Chalmer Marshall 
passed them. Philip saw his look of disdain 
and the slight stiffening of the boy’s figure as he 
passed. 

“ An’ who was that little cove ? ” asked 
Tony, unconscious of the impression he had 
made. 

“ Oh, he is Chalmer Marshall, Jr. His 
father is a big gun. lie has lots of money. I 
know him.” 

Tony felt himself dilate with pride. He had 
not made his sacrifice for nothing. Philip 
already knew boys whose fathers were some- 
body. 

They passed more boys, and Tony finally 
noticed how curiously they looked at him, and, 
with his wits sharpened in Philip’s behalf, he 


144 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


began to contrast his clothes and appearance 
with theirs, and he drew some conclusions that 
made the hot blood rush to his face. 

“ Say, Philip,’’ he said so awkwardly that 
Philip stared, “can’t you come off some place 
with me where we can’t see them fellows? I 
can't stay long. Only wanted to see you a 
minute.” 

Philip, with his quick sympathy, felt what 
was the matter. He knew that Tony had fixed 
himself in his most stunning way and meant to 
stay all day, and now that he felt ashamed — 
he — Tony — ashamed ! Philip felt choked. 

They made their way out to Clark’s woods, 
and sat down on a log. Tony fumbled around 
for the money he had so carefully hoarded, told 
about his final row with Nick, and how he 
“ wanted Poke to be like the other fellows,” with 
money, and handed over his savings. 

“ I won’t do it, Tony,” burst out Philip ; 
“ you need the money twice as much as I do ! 
I won’t, Tony, I won’t! ” 

And Tony protested, and Philip objected, and 


OUT OF SHOW LIFE. 


145 


finally they compromised by Philip’s taking 
two thirds. 

But Tony was not satisfied. 

“ O Philip, I knowed how it would be — all 
these fine, slick fellows, and me no good, no- 
how — stunted and homebly as blazes, and 
bad — I am bad, I suppose, but I don’t feel 
no worse than anybody, and I want you to 
remember us, you and me together, and I want 
to have a hand in it all, and slave fur you, slave 
fur you,” excitedly. “ Nobody cares like me ! 
Nobody ! Nobody ! ” 

And Philip squeezed Tony’s hands, and 
could hardly speak, and they felt very near 
each other, and stayed there an hour. 

Tony made up his mind to leave. 

“ 1 Philip,” he said abruptly, “ I’d like to 
make a contract that I’d serve you through 
thick and thin, anything for you, if you’ll only 
keep the same to me — not so almighty high 
up and far away, as I’m afraid of.” 

“ O Tony, don’t ; you’re everything to me ! ” 
cried Philip. And when Tony left on the train 


146 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


the boys felt as though they had made an 
arrangement which would last forever. A good 
many of the boys joked Philip about his friend, 
some were only curious, some sneered. 

After supper Chalmer Marshall came up to 
Philip. They walked down the corridor and 
sat on the steps. “ Who was that queer 
customer with you, anyway ? ” 

Philip felt like unburdening his soul. 

“ That was the best friend I have,” flushing. 
“ He’s saved me lickin’ after lickin’,” and then 
he had to stop to laugh at Chalmer’s wide open 
eyes, “ and he’s bought me clothes, and fought 
for me, and been good to me, and took care of 
me once when I was awful sick with a fever, 
and now I’m here not earning anything he’s 
saved his money and gave it to me.” Philip 
pulled out a roll of bills and some loose silver. 

“ Never heard of such larks ! Why, how 
did it happen ? ” That night, contrary to rules, 
for Philip just couldn’t get used to rules, long 
after the lights-out bell, Chalmer, in Philip’s 
little room, listened to the most wonderful 


OUT OF SHOW LIFE. 


147 


things he had ever heard. He could not seem 
to believe that Philip, whose appearance he had 
admired so much, in company with every one 
else in the school, had acted in a circus and a 
show, until Philip went through a few per- 
formances. 

Chalmer gazed entranced. 

“ O Philip, we will be friends, won’t we, and 
teach me some of those things, won’t you ? ” 

“Yes,” laughed Philip. “But you ought 
to see Tony once.” 

And, after they had parted for the night, 
while Philip was thinking with a glad heart of 
his two sure friends, Chalmer was relieving his 
excitement in a letter. 

“ O mamma, the most wonderful boy. Tell 
Benjamin I have a Philip, too. You ought to 
see him. Benjamin won’t think any more of 
her Philip when she sees mine. He’s wonder- 
ful!” 


CHAPTER X. 


ABOARD THE 4 4 QUEEN.” 

Philip had a difficult task before him, to 
make and maintain a position in school. His 
book ignorance of itself would have made most 
boys of his age a laughing stock. He showed 
himself constantly guilty of lapses in the ordi- 
nary forms of life which the other boys observed 
almost unconsciously, having been taught them 
from babyhood. 

But a month’s trial showed him to be of the 
stuff which is not overcome by trifles. 

It galled him to be in the baby classes, and 
he studied with a vigor and purpose not 
equalled by any one else in the school, and 
consequently with a larger share of success. 
His teachers were constantly astonished. He 
was unusually bright, but other boys in the 


ABOARD THE “QUEEN.” 149 

school were all of that. His mind had been 
forced into a practical turn that enabled him 
to look ahead and comprehend the use in 
things, and the objects in view ; which was, 
perhaps, his greatest advantage. The novelty 
of his style of life was in itself an impetus, 
and, by reason of all things combined, he soon 
had no reason to feel ashamed of his class 
rank. 

He was the favorite of the school among the 
boys, big and little, and with all the teachers. 
No one could grudge him that pre-eminence, it 
so indubitably was his right. He was such a 
good friend, such a good-natured, forgiving 
enemy, such a hard player, and so excessively 
brilliant — according to the boys’ ideas — in 
his athletic performances, that the big boys 
were unswervingly proud of him, and the 
smaller boys and those his own age yielded 
unquestioningly to him as leader. 

Miss Joyce received letters from the principal 
warm in his praise. She thought herself that 
the principal did not say too much, but she 


150 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


wondered at it. How could it happen ? She 
believed that good parentage and good birth 
should give the best results, and here was a 
boy from the slums, from the very dregs, who 
was certainly the finest boy in every way she 
had ever seen or ever expected to see. 

She invited him to spend the Thanksgiving 
recess with her in Brookline, and Philip thought 
he trod on air. How fine to pack his bag and 
go away just like other boys. 

School was over at noon, and the boys all 
scattered for home on the afternoon trains. 
Philip meant to surprise Tony, and he could 
hardly restrain his eagerness. Why wouldn’t 
the train go faster ? And, once in Boston, he 
couldn’t help running almost all the way to 
their old room. How glad and astonished Tony 
would be ! 

No one was in the room, and Philip rushed 
out to find someone who knew where Tony was. 
He had not gone three steps from the street 
entrance when he stood still, his very blood 
seeming to stop in his veins. There was a man 


151 


ABOARD THE “QUEEN.” 

— Nick — supporting a boy, who reeled and 
staggered, and looked very white and sick. 
Tony — drunk ; just as drunk as he could be ; 
and he looked so boyish and small beside Nick. 
Nick was far from steady himself, and Philip 
waited, sick at heart, until he had assisted Tony 
up to the little room and had stumbled out 
again. Then Philip went up. 

The horror, the real agony of that moment, 
was present to Philip to the last day of his life. 
This was no silliness or feeling badly. Tony 
was drunk ! Philip groaned. How could the 
sun shine ? How could he have been so happy 
ten minutes before ? How could all the boys he 
had left go home and have a good time? It 
was wrong, and wicked, and cruel. Why didn’t 
the whole world rise up and save Tony ? Now 
he could hate. He hated the stuff ; he hated 
the traffic in strength, and mind, and will- 
power. Had Tony meant to get drunk? No, 
he hadn’t ; his will-power had been stolen 
from him. How pale and weak he was ; his 
strength had been stolen from him. He wasn’t 


152 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


asleep, and yet he didn’t know anything ; his 
mind had been stolen from him. How could 
people allow it? And Philip hated it all. 

He loosened Tony’s clothes, and took off his 
shoes, and bathed his head. And the tears 
would come, and run down his nose, and drop 
off faster than he could wipe them away. Of 
course Tony couldn’t play that night ; or 
wasn’t there to be any theatre that night? 
What could have happened? Well, it was of 
no consequence; nothing could make it any 
worse. Miss Joyce would be expecting him ; 
she would be worried ; it was getting late. He 
must run out and let her know what had hap- 
pened, and hurry back to Tony. He dreaded 
leaving Tony like that, but he knew he wouldn’t 
waken, and he must do it. 

It was a heart-broken boy that Miss Joyce 
opened the door for that evening, instead of the 
jolly boy she had expected. He was almost 
too excited to talk, but he made her understand 
what had happened, and rushed off back to the 
city. She did not think it right to let him go, 



PHILIP COMES TO TONY’S RESCUE 







ABOARD THE 46 QUEEN.' 


153 


but there was evidently no stopping him. She 
wondered why it should seem so terrible to 
him ; something like this must have occurred 
before, and he was well used to such things. 

But Philip had grown in his short stay at 
school ; he had other standards now. He had 
clearer notions of right and wrong, and of 
what people thought on the questions of the 
times. He was awake now, as he never had 
been before to Tony’s condition, and what his 
life would be should this go on. 

That was a dreadful night for the boy. He 
was afraid to have Tony wake up ; he was 
afraid not to have him wake up. He thought 
of a thousand things to say, and knew he 
would say none of them. He felt sure that he 
ought to leave school and stay with Tony. 
Perhaps that would be some good. 

When Tony opened his eyes they rested on 
the sad, mournfully beautiful face of his boy. 

“Philip,” he murmured, not sure he was 
awake. 

“ O Tony ! ” sobbed Philip. 


154 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“What’s the matter, Poke; you feelin’ bad ? 
Anybody done anything to you ? I’ll kill ’em, 
if there has ! ” and he turned over weakly to 
reach Philip’s hand. 

“ O Tony, you’ll break my heart if you don’t 
stop ! You were so drunk — awful drunk ; 
and I came to see you and was so glad — and 
you didn’t know me — me — Tony ! ” and the 
tears would come again, in spite of him. 

Tony was speechless. 

He had a racking headache, but he could 
realize the whole situation. He remembered 
clearly all the incidents of the afternoon before. 
And he knew how he must have come home. 
It was the third time lately. He knew it was 
dreadful. He knew it was rare for a boy of his 
age to do as he was doing. And Philip had 
come and had seen it all, fresh from a school of 
well-dressed, decent boys. What could he 
think of him in contrast? Philip had begged 
him before to be careful. He was not un- 
warned. Philip would hate him, would loathe 
him ; he ought to ! O Philip, Philip, he was 


ABOARD THE “QUEEN . 5 


155 


so beautiful ! How he had loved him when he 
was a little, rounded, dimpled boy ; how he 
had cared for him, and defended him, and pro- 
tected him ; and Philip had looked to nobody 
but him, and had cared for nobody but him. 
And now Philip was crying for him, had been 
bitterly hurt by him ; and why should he con- 
tinue to care for him ? What good looks, or 
virtues, or talents had Tony that Philip should 
continue to prefer him? No, it was no use 
now. He said nothing and turned over with 
his face to the wall. 

Philip gave a despairing cry, and threw him- 
self down beside Tony, and put his arm around 
him. 

“ O Tony, I love you so ! There’s nobody 
like you for me ! How can I stand it, 
Tony?” 

“ Do you mean you will stand by me yet? ” 
said Tony softly, hardly breathing. 

“ Oh, I’ll stand by you through everything ! 
I’ll leave school and stay with you ! Tony, 
don’t touch the stuff ! I hate it — I hate it ! ” 


156 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ Well, you aint goin’ into no such foolishness. 
I won’t hear a word of such talk. Philip, will 
yer — like — me yet ? ” 

“ I’d die for you, and I mean it straight. 
Just think what you’ve been to me ! Don’t 
touch the stuff ever again. Don’t ! 

“ Lord, no, kid, course I won’t if you ask me ! 
Th’ aint nothing I wouldn’t do for you ask- 
ing.” 

Philip sat bolt upright, his eyes stretched 
their widest. 

“Do you mean you’ll never touch anything 
of the kind again ? sure — certain — honest ! ” 

“ Yes, I mean just that, if it will do you one 
speck of good, and keep you — likin’ — me.” 

Philip seemed to have received an electric 
shock; he danced, he turned handsprings, he 
shouted, he whistled, he sang, while Tony 
laughed, in spite of his headache. 

“But, Tony, can you do it?” Philip was 
quiet again and anxious. 

“Do it or bust! I’d bust quick enough to 
suit you.” 


ABOARD THE “QUEEN.” 157 

“No, that wouldn’t suit me either,” said 
Philip so soberly that Tony laughed again. 

A short time later, when Philip again pre- 
sented himself to Miss Joyce, he was so exuber- 
antly cheerful that she was puzzled. 

“Tony has promised me he’ll never touch a 
drop of liquor again ! ” he said triumphantly. 

Poor Miss Joyce ! She couldn’t enter into 
Philip’s hopefulness ; she felt confident it was a 
promise of straw — perhaps might stand in the 
way of any radical improvement. 

“But, Philip, does he know what he is talking 
about? If he stays where he is now he will 
never keep his promise in the world ! ’ ’ 

And Philip sighed mournfully. It was hard 
to have his secret fear spoken aloud in that 
decisive way. 

“ I had an idea last night. Perhaps you will 
think it a good one. How would Tony like to 
go to sea, do you think ? ” 

“He always said he wanted to go to sea,” 
said Philip, eagerly snatching at the faintest ray 
of hope. 


158 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ I happen to know a sea captain, Captain 
Bradley — owns the coaster 4 Queen.’ He is a 
fine man and a strong temperance man; won’t 
have any liquor on his ship, and he has been 
the making of many a young man and boy. 
He is in Boston now ; sails some time this week, 
I suppose, and it may be he would want a boy 
or know of someone who did.” 

They went into the city to the office where 
Captain Bradley was likely to be found, and he 
appeared before they had waited ten minutes. 
But it was a long wait to Philip. Suppose 
Captain Bradley wanted a boy, would Tony go ? 
Would he leave the theatre ? 

Captain Bradley was a square-set, hearty, 
bronzed man, with a deep voice, and Philip 
admired him intensely at once. 

Everything worked like a charm. The cap- 
tain said the one thing he needed was a boy, and 
that he would try Miss Joyce’s boy, if he wished 
to go, simply because Miss J oyce wished it, and 
without any reference to his notion of the boy. 
He would return to Boston in three months. 


159 


ABOARD THE “QUEEN.” 

The captain kept looking at Philip. 

“Where did you ever pick up a boy who 
looked like that ? ” he inquired as soon as 
Philip had started for Tony. 

Miss Joyce told of her acquaintance with 
him. 

“ His friend ought to be a good fellow, if a 
boy with that face is so fond of him.” 

“Well, he isn’t. Tony is, unquestionably, a 
bad boy.” 

Philip rushed to the old room. Tony was 
still sitting there on the edge of the bed. 

He was gloomy to the last degree. Angry 
with himself and with everybody but Philip. 
The manager had been in and had summarily 
dismissed him from further attendance on the 
theatre. Tony did not feel that particularly, as 
he was sure the manager would retract on a 
promise of good behavior. But there did not 
seem to be any use in anything. 

“ Guess what, Tony ! .the jolliest thing ! 
say you’ll do it before I tell you.” 

“ Yep — you skinflint ! ” 


160 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ Just the jolliest chance to go to sea, and 
the finest sort of a captain — to he gone three 
months and go lots of places — only I forget 
where, or I didn’t find out.” 

It was Tony’s turn to be interested, and he 
had to hear all the details. He shrugged his 
shoulders and showed a momentary disposition 
to rebel when he found that Miss Joyce knew 
of his performance the night before, but Philip’s 
good spirits were infectious, and the coaster 
carried the day. 

Captain Bradley fell in with Miss Joyce’s 
opinion unhesitatingly when he first saw Tony. 
But there was something about the wide mouth 
and the boy’s manner to Philip very taking, 
after all. 

“ Making myself a deal of trouble,” thought 
Captain Bradley, but he made the engagement, 
and warned Tony to be at the ship the next 
afternoon at half past five. 

Miss Joyce had disappeared before Tony 
reached the office, much to his satisfaction, 
but there was a message for the boys to the 


ABOARD THE “QUEEN.” 161 

effect that if Tony engaged to ship with the 
captain he should come out for Thanksgiving 
dinner with Philip and stay all night and they 
would get his outfit the next morning. 

The proposition was far from pleasing to 
Tony, but Philip was so anxious and Miss 
Joyce had been so kind there did not seem to 
be any way out of it. 

At Philip’s instigation he spent a large part 
of his fortune in a bath, a shampoo, a shirt, 
and a shine, so that Miss Joyce was agreeably 
disappointed in the neat and even polished 
appearance of her not altogether desired guest. 

She was ashamed of not feeling a keener 
interest in Tony’s welfare. She felt positive 
that the reason for it was one too mean to even 
express. She had counted on seeing Philip, 
and hearing of his successes and improvement, 
and on doing a great many things to render 
this little visit pleasant and memorable which 
now were rendered impossible. 

“Yes, that is just you all over,” she 
remarked to herself. “You know Philip’s whole 


162 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


heart is in doing something for Tony, and that 
if this turns out well it will be far more pleas- 
ure to him than hearing you harangue on 
nobility, and bravery, and success, and all that ; 
and you feel mean about it because you want 
to run everything your own way. I do just 
despise you ! Why can’t you be large and 
worth while, instead of so mean and contempt- 
ible ? ” 

Unlike many people, she was able to profit 
by good advice when she heard it, and she 
straightway reformed and gave her whole mind 
to Tony, on the principle that nature would 
teach her to suit Philip, but that it would take 
reasonably hard effort to make the occasion 
anything but irksome to Tony. 

Philip was far more astonished at the success 
of her efforts on Tony’s behalf than he ever 
had been at anything done for himself. How 
could Miss Joyce know just how to please 
Tony, and when Tony was in his very worst 
mood, too ? How could she make him feel so at 
home in her house and at her table — for Philip 


ABOARD THE “QUEEN.” 163 

was quite conscious of an incongruity? How 
could she get in just the right things that 
Tony really wanted to hear, and really did 
listen to appreciatively, so unaffectedly and 
naturally ? 

And as Tony expanded and finally even 
began to speak of himself, and of how he had 
promised Philip never to touch a drop of liquor 
again, Philip kept saying to himself, “ My, just 
isn’t she wonderful ? My, I wish I could be 
as good as that ! I wish I could pay her back 
for that ! ” 

Miss Joyce was so successful that the next 
day when she engineered the process of buying 
the necessaries prescribed by Captain Bradley, 
Tony had ceased to feel that she was a super- 
fluous character. He shook hands warmly with 
her when she said good-by, and he had a chok- 
ing sort of feeling in his heart that he was glad 
she said some things to him that she did, and 
that he hoped he could show it was all worth 
while. 

Philip stayed with him until the “ Queen ” 


164 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


was ready to sail, feeling alternately glad and 
sorry that Tony was going. 

Every few minutes he would squeeze Tony’s 
hand, with, “O Tony!” 

And Tony would always reply in the softest 
sort of a voice, “ There, you shut up ! ” 

Just before it was time for Philip to go, 
Tony said : — 

“ I dun know what I’d do if you quit — likin’ 

— me — Philip — up there with all them fine 
fellars, and me such a chunk. I dun know 
what I’d do ! ” . 

And Philip gave a happy laugh. “You 
won’t forget your promise, Tony — honest, sure 

— hope I may die if I do — and, oh, won’t I be 
glad to see you back ? ” 


CHAPTER XI. 

LLOYD. 

“ The hardest thing will be leaving Lloyd ; 
but you certainly are right about it. He should 
not be out of school another day.” 

There was a long pause, in which both Mr. 
and Mrs. Leicester looked profoundly miser- 
able. 

“ Poor little thing, what a hard, hard life she 
has had — and so good and cheerful always — 
and now consumption ! I can’t help being 
thankful it isn’t your side of the family.” 

The “poor little thing” was Mr. Leicester’s 
little step-sister. She had suffered an injury 
as a child from which she had never recovered, 
and now a long-continued state of ill health 
had run into quick consumption. She was 
over twenty, but everybody spoke of her as 

165 


166 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


little, she was such a childish little body. It 
had become necessary for the Leicesters to take 
her South as the last chance of benefiting her, 
and in all their discussions on the subject they 
could only come to one conclusion, — that Lloyd 
must not be kept out of school. 

He had never been away from home, but now 
they had decided to send him during their 
absence to Clapham, where Chalmer Marshall 
went. They thought it would help Lloyd to 
feel that he had a friend there before going, 
and every one had a high opinion of Clapham as 
a home school for boys. Chalmer was to be 
home that day and was to go over to the Lei- 
cesters, that Mr. Leicester might talk with him 
about the school. 

When he came he gave the most glowing 
accounts, as usual, of his school life. 

“ Don’t get such good things to eat as we 
do at home, you know, and we grumble terribly, 
but, then, it’s a fact that we all do look fatter 
and better in school than out ; and real flabby, 
pasty-looking boys, when they first come, often 


LLOYD. 


167 


get to look first rate by the end of a term. So 
I guess the feed’s good enough. Well, the 
playgrounds are fine, and a good skating 
pond ; and the gym is just a dandy ; all the 
fellows take more interest in the gym since 
Philip came. He’s the Philip, Mrs. Leicester ! ” 
turning pleasantly to her. “ Talk about good- 
looking Philips ! I tell Benjamin hers couldn’t 
have been a circumstance, with his silly curls 
and velvet breeches, to mine. You ought to 
see Philip in the gym ! Why, what he can’t 
do is just nowhere ! There isn’t a fellow in 
the school can hold a candle to him! And 
run ! and skate ! and baseball ! And he’s 
going to take all the prizes there are that come 
to his classes next spring. 

“You’d just better believe it! If there’s 
any fellow can beat Philip, I’d like to see 
him!” 

Chalmer looked as though, as a matter of fact, 
he wouldn’t like to see him, but they went on 
talking about other school matters. 

Mrs. Leicester wondered in a sad way why it 


168 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


was she had to hear about so many Philips. 
And she still had another to hear about that 
same day. 

Miss Mackenzie drove up in her coach to dis- 
cover if the Leicesters really were going South. 
After that subject had been thoroughly can- 
vassed Mrs. Leicester asked about Miss Joyce 
and her boys. 

“ Oh, everything goes on just the same, but 
it isn’t the same house to me since that poor, 
dear little John’s death. She has two per- 
manencies now in the way of boys, — a little 
scalliwag, named Will, that the country would 
be better without, and a sickly, little, down- 
trodden, drink-cursed boy, named Dan ; but she 
will put some life into him if anybody can. 
She has a prodigy, too, though it has never 
been my lot to see him, — a boy named Philip. 
She says he is the most beautiful boy anybody 
ever saw, and he seems to be remarkably bright 
and everything else.” 

“Is he cared for? Has he relatives and 


friends? ” 


LLOYD. 


169 


“ Oh, my, yes, everything — appears to have 
been born with a golden spoon in his month.” 

For Miss Mackenzie had been so dazzled by 
the extravagance of the little she had heard 
about Philip that she could not imagine any- 
thing lacking. 

“ Well, good-by,” she went on ; “ I can’t keep 
Peter and Jane waiting any longer. Those 
animals and the coachman just tyrannize over 
me ! Good-by ! I shall see you again before 
you leave,” and the lively little lady bustled 
out of the house into the carriage, the horses 
reproachfully turned their heads, the coachman 
gravely adjusted the lines, and the old turn- 
out rumbled off in a stately and dignified 
manner. 

And so it happened that when Philip was 
twelve years old he saw his brother for the 
second time. 

It was his twelfth birthday, though little he 
suspected it; indeed, feeling the necessity of 
having a birthday sometime or other, like all 
the other boys, he had elected to have it on the 


170 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


first day of January, and as he knew and Tony 
knew his approximate age, he had been con- 
sidering himself 44 going on thirteen ” for a 
month and a half ; and, skates in hand, he was 
starting for Long Pond for a skate and a grand 
race with the two best skaters in the school. 
Just as he cleared the last four steps at a bound 
he heard the principal calling him. 

44 Yes, sir,” said Philip at once, turning with 
the smile that was like a revelation to most 
people. 

44 Sorry to stop you,” said the principal 
kindly, 44 but I need your help.” And then he 
explained that a lady had that morning left a 
little boy at the school. She was obliged to go 
South for a couple of months, and had deter- 
mined to have her little boy there, as he knew 
Chalmer Marshall. 

44 But I don’t know where Chalmer is,” con- 
tinued the principal; 44 and the little fellow 
looks so lonesome it is enough to break one’s 
heart ; and you can help him through.” 

The principal was thinking that the very 


LLOYD. 


171 


sight of Philip’s eyes, and smile, and golden 
hair ought to cheer any one. 

“ All right, sir,” said Philip cheerfully ; 
“ I’ll look out for him. What’s his name ? ” 

“ Lloyd Leicester,” answered the principal, 
and the next moment Philip stood face to face 
with his brother. 

The boy was standing where the light shone 
full on him, and Philip’s quick eye noticed at 
once the straightness of the little figure, the 
way the dark hair clung closely to the finely 
shaped head, the long dark lashes, and the 
dark eyes almost full of tears as the boy raised 
them to look at him. Philip always felt sorry 
for anything small or in trouble, and he felt 
very kindly for this lonesome nine-year-old. 

“ Come on, and I’ll show you the gym ; 
there’s nobody in there now,” and as he took 
the little fellow’s hand and smiled at him, Lloyd 
pressed back his tears, comforted, and smiled 
bravely. There was something in the boyish 
voice that made him think of his mother, and 
he felt happy. 


172 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


After they had looked at the gymnasium and 
Lloyd had laughed two or three times, Philip 
proposed that they should go to Lloyd’s room 
and “ fix it up.” 

It was a large, sunny room, much finer than 
Philip’s, but Lloyd said mournfully that it 
wasn’t much like his room at home ; there he 
had all sorts of things, and the furniture was 
just the right size for him. 

“ Oh, come now,” said Philip encouragingly, 
“ let’s hang up your things, and get out your 
books, and this will be fine. You just be brave 
and you can write your mother how well you 
like it. Chalmer Marshall will take you to his 
room. My room’s not much good, but Chal- 
mer’s is fine, I can tell you.” 

They opened Lloyd’s trunk, and Philip mar- 
velled at the beautiful underclothes ; at the 
shirtwaists, and the neckties, and slippers, 
at the comb and brush box and toilet appa- 
ratus, and at the dainty way everything was 
packed. 

“ My,” he said, “ did your mother put these 


LLOYD. 


1T3 


things in this way? Mustn’t she love you, 
though ? ” a little wistfully. 

But Lloyd’s play-box was the most fun, — 
marbles, and a bat, and some machinery toys, 
some games, a racket, books, and pictures, — all 
had to be taken out. 

Lloyd pounced eagerly on a package carefully 
done up and opened it. 

“ Look, this is my mamma,” and Lloyd 
kissed the picture passionately, “and this is 
Hazel, my little sister, and this my baby brother, 
Philip.” 

“ Ho, isn’t he a fat little chunk, and how he 
laughs ! ” said Philip, laughing, looking, with 
never a suspicion, at this picture of himself 
when three months old. “ Did your mother 
take him with her?” 

“ He is older than I,” said Lloyd quietly, “ and 
to-day is his birthday ; that is his baby picture.” 

Philip sat down in a rocking-chair to look at 
the picture of Lloyd’s mother. It was a beauti- 
ful picture, one that almost did justice to the 
bronze and gold lights in her hair, to the eyes 


174 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


and the perfect lips. He couldn’t guess that 
those lips had kissed his a thousand times, that 
his face had been pressed against that rounded 
cheek ; but he sighed a little and thought of 
the way Lloyd’s things were packed, and said, 
almost sadly : — 

“ I wish I had a mother like that ! ” 

“ Is yours dead?” asked Lloyd, in an awed 
tone, and Philip nodded assent. 

“ Where’s your father’s picture ? ” 

“ Mamma is going to send it to me. I look 
like my papa.” 

“ So you know Chalmer Marshall, do you?” 
asked Philip, laying down the photographs, 
and beginning again to help Lloyd arrange his 
personal property. 

“ Yes, I’ve always known Chalmer and 
Gladys.” 

“ Gladys! ” said Philip with a jump. 

“Yes, Gladys Marshall, Chalmer’s sister. 
Don’t you know her ? What is the matter ? ” 

“ Nothing. I didn’t know Chalmer had a 
sister Gladys.” 


LLOYD. 


175 


“ Well, he has, and I have a cousin Gladys, 
too, — Gladys Park.” 

So there was more than one Gladys in the 
world. Gladys ! the sweetest word in the world 
to him, and he had never even said it aloud, 
and it seemed sort of awful to hear that there 
were more people of that name. And he saw 
again that little bareheaded maiden, and felt the 
warm, soft hand in his. So Chalmer had a 
sister Gladys. He supposed Benjamin was the 
only sister Chalmer had, and said so to Lloyd. 

“ Oh, Benjamin is Gladys ; that’s not her 
name, Benjamin isn’t. Chalmer just calls her 
that, and his mother doesn’t like it, either.” 

“ Do you like her ? ” he couldn’t bring himself 
to say Gladys. 

“ Mrs. Marshall ? Oh, Gladys ! Yes, I guess 
I do ; we have lots of fun together. We’re the 
same age. 'l don’t like Chalmer very well.” 

“ Don’t like Chalmer ? ” in great astonish- 
ment. 

“Not very well. He plagues us lots, and 
he’s so — oh, so sort of bossy. I don’t believe 


176 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


Philip would have been that way. I think 
Philip would have been like you,” looking at 
him with frank admiration. 

“ Don’t you know what he’s like ? ” 

“ Why, no ; I never saw him.” 

“ Oh, is he dead ? ” 

“ No, I’m sure he isn’t dead, and Hazel is 
sure, too. Hazel and I just pray and pray 
about him, and I know my mamma and papa do, 
too.” 

“ Why, is he so awful bad ? ” 

“ People don’t have to be bad for you to pray 
for them ! We pray for papa and mamma, too, 
and they’re not bad ; they’re the best people 
on earth ! ” 

“ Never mind — but where is he ? ” 

“We don’t know. He was stolen away 
when he was a baby, just as big as that picture, 
and now — to-day — he is twelve years old. 
How old are you ? ” 

“ Twelve last New Year’s.” 

“ Aren’t you glad you weren’t born Christ- 
mas — pretty close shave ! ” 


LLOYD. 


177 


“ Why?” 

“ Because you would have had your Christ- 
mas and birthday presents all mixed up to- 
gether, of course, and you wouldn’t have half 
so much.” 

Philip never spoke of himself, or of what he 
had or did, but this little fellow was such a 
nice, sociable little fellow, he said almost 
before he knew it, “ I never had a birthday 
present in my life, nor a Christmas present, 
until last Christmas, Miss Joyce gave me a 
watch,” pulling out a small silver watch, “ and 
that was nice enough to make up for all the 
birthdays and Christmases ever were, I thought.” 

He loved that watch ; it was a cheap one, 
but it ticked, and kept fair time, and it looked so 
chubby and companionable ; he always took it 
to bed with him. 

Lloyd felt like exhibiting his own handsome 
gold watch, but something kept him from it, and 
he simply said, “ Yes, a watch is nice.” Then 
his mind reverted to Philip’s statement and his 
wonder grew. 


178 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


44 Why didn’t your mother and father give 
you presents ? ” 

44 I haven’t any.” 

44 Oh, dear ; who takes care of you ? ” 

44 Somebody that knows how,” Philip replied, 
growing reticent. 

44 Have you a guardian ? ” 

44 No.” 

44 Well, that’s funny, if you haven’t any 
father nor mother, not to have a guardian. 
Who takes care of your money ?” 

44 Here, you are asking too many questions,” 
laughed Philip. 

44 I’m sorry,” said Lloyd; 44 mother says I 
can ask all I want of her or papa, but I’m not 
to ask any of other people, and here I’ve gone 
and done it first thing.” 

He looked troubled, and Philip felt conscience 
stricken. 44 1 was only joking. Show me some 
more of your things, and tell me about Hazel.” 

44 She’s only five. She’s the prettiest little 
thing you ever saw, and so funny. Papa loves 
her so ; you never saw anything like it.” 


LLOYD. 


179 


“ What’s your father like ? ” 

“ Oh, he’s nice, I can tell you ! I guess he’s 
the strongest man on earth — and good ! My ! 
And he holds you in his arms with your face up 
against his coat — it’s lovely ; sort of a nice, 
lovely smell, and all comfortable and happy 
feelings inside of you. But my mother — - oh, 
dear, — when she loves you, you just can’t get 
enough of it — and if it’s in the dark night, 
and you’re afraid, sort of, or lonesome, or 
just feel bad — her face is so — so delicious 
against yours, and when she kisses you, — your 
cheeks, and eyes, and forehead, and all, — why, 
oh, I don’t know what — only I think a mous- 
tache is in the way about kissing, and I don’t 
mean ever to have any myself, only my mother 
doesn’t seem to mind papa’s, but I think I like 
’em better without. Well, I don’t know what 
I shall do, if I tell any more about my mother. 
I’ve just got to talk about something else, 
Philip. You sort of look the way she does at 
me. You will like me, won’t you, Philip ? ” 
That very night Lloyd wrote to his mother, 


180 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


as he had promised, and after having scrawled 
several pages blotted with occasional tears and 
full of protestations of his lonesomeness, for he 
was a very intense, rather melancholy little 
fellow, he wound up with, “ And I have seen 
Chalmer’s Philip, mamma, and I mean to call 
him my Philip. He is the beautifullest boy, 
and the kindest, and the very best on earth, 
just like Chalmer said, only a thousand times 
nicer. I love him next after you and papa 
and Hazel, and if I must be away from you, 
mamma, I’d rather be here with Philip than 
anywhere, he is so good to me.” 


CHAPTER XII. 
tony’s pledge. 

Mrs. Leicester seemed to be fated to hear 
about very beautiful little boys named Philip. 
One morning in Charleston, she was out in 
a park with Hazel. Hazel was tired, and 
wanted to sit on a bench, and have her mother 
sit beside her and repeat rhymes and verses to 
her. 

A young fellow with something of a seafar- 
ing air sat on a bench near by, and listened 
attentively to all Mrs. Leicester said. 

“ Now, mamma, 4 Philip, My King,’ and then 
we’ll go over to the little pond.” 

And Mrs. Leicester began : — 

“ ‘ Look at me with thy large, brown eyes, 

Philip, my king.’ ” 

The man became more and more interested 


181 


182 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


as she went on with the words, and when she 
had concluded, as Hazel was jumping down 
from the bench, he walked over to her, touched 
his cap, and hitched up his trousers in sailor 
fashion. 

“And what might be the name of that, 
ma’am, if I might make so bold as to ask? ” 

“ 4 Philip, My King.’ Did you enjoy it ? ” 

“ I did that. Can you buy them words ? ” 

“ Probably not by themselves. The lady 
who wrote them, Miss Mulock, wrote other 
things, and they are published together.” 

“Well, would you mind saying that first lot 
of words again ? ” 

After Mrs. Leicester had smiling complied, 
she asked why they had so struck his fancy. 

“ Why, thinkin’ of a little messmate of 
mine. A little feller on our coaster.” 

“ Was his name Philip ? ” 

“ Oh — excuse me — no. But he knowed a 
little chap named Philip, and after I got ac- 
quainted with him he wanted to talk about him 
all the time. I never in my life see anybody 


tony’s pledge. 


183 


so fond of another human being as that boy 
was of that Philip. Looked like he’d ’a’ died 
fur him any day or minute ; and always telling 
what handsome eyes he had, and hair, and such 
takin’ ways, and so almighty good — though 
this little cove wasn't. Well, to hear him tell, 
I’d get a notion of an angel in heaven ; such 
a beautiful face and ways as he would let 
on about. But, of course, thinkin’ it all over I 
knew ’twan’t so — any of it; this boy was 
making it up. Well, to cut a long story short, 
there was some great doings, which is neither 
here not there, and this little fellar was in a 
bad way, and I was quite broke up about him, 
when there came a letter for him, and it had a 
picture in it, and it knocked him higher ’n any 
kite you ever see. And shiver, my — excuse 
me — if he didn’t show it to me, and that 
there boy’s face beat all the angels I ever 
dreamt of. And I believed all that little fellar 
said after that. Well, he went off back with 
the coaster, and I’ve got around here. But 
when I heard you sayin’ them words all about 


184 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


his boy, for it just seems ’s if they were meant 
for him, I thought as how I’d like to buy ’em 
and send ’em to him. Sorry to kept you talkin’ 
so long, ma’am.” 

44 What is your name ? ” she asked kindly. 

“ Jack Ludlow, thanky, ma’am,” and he got 
away as fast as he could, rather embarrassed 
about his long story. 

44 Another beautiful Philip,” thought Mrs. 
Leicester lonesomely. 44 If it weren’t that I 
can be morally certain the one name my boy 
would not have would be Philip, I should go 
quite wild over hearing about so many.” 

The scenes Tony’s shipmate had referred to in 
his ambiguous way had already come to Philip’s 
ken long before the conversation took place. 

Philip was to spend Sunday with Miss Joyce, 
and soon after he reached the house she said, 
44 1 have good news for you, Philip.” 

44 About Tony ? ” he eagerly interrupted. 

She nodded. 44 Good news and bad news. 
Though I know you will think it is mostly 
good news.” 


tony’s pledge. 


185 


She had received a long letter from Captain 
Bradley, detailing his somewhat harrowing 
experiences with his new boy. 

Tony had taken kindly to ship life at the 
start, but when the novelty wore off he began 
to be uneasy and restless. The excitements 
that he had grown to depend on were lacking, 
and even fighting with bitter winter weather 
and Atlantic swells could not take their place. 
He began to be moody about Philip. Why 
didn’t Philip write to him ? Philip didn’t care 
for him ; how could he ? He only wanted to 
get him off out of sight somewhere. He was 
terribly ashamed of such thoughts, for they 
were quite foreign to his nature, but still they 
grew on him. 

At one port he obtained permission to go 
ashore, though Captain Bradley, having ob- 
served the moods of the boy, hesitated about 
letting him go. Once ashore he acted disgrace- 
fully. He went stubbornly into a saloon for a 
drink, ordered it, started to drink it ; then 
smashed the glass on the floor, and, paying for 


186 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


drink and glass, went off. Went off promising 
himself that he would drink all he could hold 
the next day. Then he smoked all day long, 
and gambled, and fought until he was fairly 
dragged back to the u Queen ” by Jack Ludlow 
in a bruised and lamed condition and very angry. 
Captain Bradley was intensely disgusted, but 
could not help wondering and secretly excusing 
the boy when he learned that he had not drunk 
anything. 

He had received mail at that port, and there 
was a letter for Tony. He sent it by Jack to 
Tony in his disgrace. 

When Tony saw the handwriting, which he 
recognized at once, his whole expression and 
attitude changed. He trembled all over and 
grew white and red by turns. He could hardly 
open it. When he did so, he took out a card 
photograph of Philip — the first Philip had 
ever had taken. Tt was a fine photograph, and 
looked as nearly like Philip as was possible. 

One look at that bit of pasteboard and Tony 
gave way to a very passion of tears. He sobbed 


tony’s pledge. 


187 


and shook until Jack Ludlow was quite terrified 
and went for Captain Bradley. 

The captain understood the value of the 
situation, and advised Jack to leave the boy 
alone for awhile. 

Tony looked at the picture, and kissed it, and 
pressed it to his cheek, and held it up close to 
him, and then gazed at it again, until the tears 
would blind him. He lay down on his bunk 
and tried to quiet himself enough to read the 
letter. Such a fresh, happy, confident letter. 
All about school, and full of questions about 
sea life, and telling how he bragged about Tony 
to the boys, and how the boys envied him 
such a friend as Tony; and about Tony’s 
promise, and how happy it had made him, and 
how he trusted him ; and asking him if he 
remembered this, and that, and the other, all the 
happiest and best things of their days together ; 
things that made the tears drop down on the 
letter, to Tony’s disgust, for it seemed to him a 
sacrilege to blur such wonderful writing. 
“ And, O Tony,” Philip wrote near the end, 


188 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ you know how you taught me to say my 
prayers, you dear, good Tony. Well, I have 
learned more about such things here, and I 
can’t think enough about them, and I can’t 
bear to know about it all if you don’t ; and 
Miss J oyce says Captain Bradley is such a good 
man, and he can tell you just what I know, and 
then we can both help each other to try to be 
good and grow to be worth something. I do 
think you are so splendid, Tony.” 

That last nearly broke Tony’s heart, but he 
cried more softly, and the highest, largest 
resolve he had ever dreamed of for himself came 
to him then. He would conquer life and bad 
things, and try to grow as Philip wanted him. 
He would try to be for Philip what he had 
always planned Philip should be. Of course 
he couldn’t, but he could try. And an unutter- 
able longing took possession of him to know 
what Philip knew which he mentioned in such 
an ambiguous way. He didn’t want to be left 
out. He didn’t want to be any farther away 
from Philip. He knew it was something about 


tony’s pledge. 


189 


being good, and for the first time his soul 
seemed to want it, and to find a strange, sweet 
charm in the thought of being good and doing 
right. 

When Captain Bradley came to see Tony, 
still expecting to find him moodily reserved and 
hugging his grief, he found him eager to see 
him, and ready to talk, and full of the new 
thoughts that had so suddenly become his. 

Captain Bradley was a very earnest man, and 
now that he found Tony would listen he talked 
straight from the shoulder, or, better, straight 
from the heart. Some of it puzzled the boy, 
but most of it was quite plain. 

“Now, I’ll tell you,” said Captain Bradley, 
“ if you really think that, with the help of God, 
you can keep a pledge, I will give you a triple 
pledge which I always carry, and you can study 
into it. It is against the use of strong drink, 
tobacco, and profanity, and impurity. If you 
don’t feel equal to pledging for all, I can give 
you the pledge you want. But you had better 
think seriously about it, and start fresh and 


190 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


clean to make a man of yourself. It is your 
last chance. I feel certain of that.” 

“ I don’t want another chance. This one is 
good enough for me, and I’ll think about it, 
though I know what I’ll do, and then maybe 
you’ll send it to Philip, in a letter to Miss 
Joyce, perhaps. He’ll like it fine ! ” 

And Tony had thought about it, and Captain 
Bradley had talked, and explained, and prayed 
with him, and finally Tony had solemnly signed 
his pledge. 

Captain Bradley had written to Miss Joyce 
and had told her all the details and enclosed the 
pledge. 

Philip went nearly wild ; he had never seen a 
pledge before. He wanted to go right back to 
school and tell all the boys about it. 

“ That’s so good,” he said, pointing to the last 
clause in the pledge. “ Why, do you know,” 
looking so frankly and honestly at Miss Joyce 
that she loved him for it, “ it’s just wonderful 
how real nice-looking sort of boys seem to 
want to talk and think all the time about bad 


tony’s pledge. 


191 


things. I just never would have believed 
it!” 

Miss J oyce read him portions of the captain’s 
letter, and Philip sat perfectly quiet with hap- 
piness, when she read, “ And so, though it is so 
short a time since all this has happened, I be- 
lieve Tony is a changed boy ; he gives every 
evidence of being an honestly Christian boy, and 
I know he is, and I confidently believe in him.” 

But Miss Joyce could not help smiling when 
Philip said, with a flush on his face : — 

“ Oh, Tony is the best boy, such a good boy ; 
you’d never know if you hadn’t lived right with 
him, and had him be good to you the way I 
have. I never could be half so good a boy as 
he is, if I were to live to be a hundred and ten 
years old.” 

She wondered, as she was constantly wonder- 
ing, what the explanation of it all could be — 
about Philip. Now, Tony — Tony was a demon- 
stration of her theories. She believed what 
Captain Bradley said. She believed Tony was 
a changed boy, that he was a Christian boy, that 


192 


PHILIP LEICESTER. - 


he would become better and more noble as he 
grew older, that be would make a reliable man, 
a good man ; but all the same she thought be 
was stamped; be was the natural product of 
bad surroundings and bad parentage. He had 
taken to wickedness with unswerving alacrity ; 
with some very lovable qualities, as she must 
think from bis relation to Philip, be still seemed 
to have been stamped from birth with an easy 
tendency toward whatever was bad. And now 
that he had changed, it was so as by fire ; and 
his increasing uprightness would always be the 
results of struggle. The boy would have to fight 
for every inch of ground he gained. He had 
received his inheritance, and it was a terrible 
one ; not too terrible, for none could be, to be 
overcome by the help of God, but one to be a 
drag on him through life. So she believed ; 
but here was Philip, from the same surround- 
ings, probably from the same stock ; and it was 
impossible to assume the same things of him. 
He seemed to have as strong a bias toward 
the right as Tony toward the wrong. Not 


tony’s pledge. 


193 


such a strong bias that he could not have 
overcome it, surely, hut strong enough so that 
he availed himself of every slightest help toward 
the right and good. He seemed to have a 
judgment, a discrimination, an instinct, where 
matters of right and wrong were concerned, 
that were wholly unknown to Tony, and more 
or less so to all the other boys she knew who had 
been situated somewhat as he had been. It 
was as impossible to doubt that in any given 
case Philip would instantly choose to do what 
was right as to doubt that Tony would instantly 
have a strong desire in the contrary direction. 
It wasn’t that Philip felt as though he was a 
good boy ; he did not. He was so conscious of 
all the various inflections of conduct, cognizable 
only to very sensitive or trained consciences, 
that he was constantly perceiving his short- 
comings. Keally desiring cleanness of thought, 
he was amazed and distressed at derelictions 
on his part, due not only to his desperate early 
training, but to the very fact of existing at all. 

Wishing — almost unconsciously — to be 


194 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


truthful and honest, he was disturbed far more 
frequently by what he noticed in himself of 
swerving from those characteristics than most 
would be at positive and intentional trans- 
gression. Miss Joyce knew all this, and, con- 
sidering that it was not at all the product of 
teaching — though the exercise of it was be- 
coming enlarged and modified by his new life 
— but just simply natural, like his facility with 
language or the color of his eyes, she was not 
finding her psychological problem very easy of 
solution. “ He must just have had a good, 
good mother at heart, I don’t care how she 
lived, or what she seemed to be like ! ” she 
asserted positively to herself. 

It was not very long after that that Philip 
had a surprise. The principal, at Miss 
Joyce’s request, sent him in to stay over Sunday 
with her. When he reached the house a car- 
riage was standing at the door and Miss Joyce 
was waiting for him, ready to drive. Her face 
was so smiling he felt at once that something 
pleasant was going to happen. “ The ‘ Queen’s ’ 


tony’s pledge. 


195 


in, Philip ! ” she cried before he reached her 
“ and we are going to drive for Tony. Captain 
Bradley said he would keep him there until we 
came.” 

That was an exciting drive to Philip, and, 
after miles of streets, it seemed to him, they 
reached the docks, and saw Captain Bradley, 
and then Tony — just exactly the same Tony, 
Philip thankfully thought, but Miss Joyce even 
more thankfully thought she detected a differ- 
ence. 

Tony was so overwhelmed that he acted very 
much embarrassed, but he couldn’t take his 
eyes off Philip’s face, and kept smiling broadly. 

“ Ain’t he the scrummest boy you ever did 
see?” he asked Captain Bradley confidently, 
and the captain assented cordially. 

When they were safely settled in the car- 
riage, having promised to see the captain on 
Monday, Tony blurted out, “Well, you’re just 
the same, and I’m so glad ! ” 

“-And you’re just the same too, Tony, only 
browner, and, I do believe, bigger, and you 


196 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


look so nice ! Miss Joyce, I never was so 
happy ! ” 

And then they were all sufficiently pleased 
to laugh as though that were a great joke. 

Sunday, between the church services, Tony 
was the principal talker, and he told his adven- 
tures with great gusto. He talked and acted 
just the same, but Miss Joyce felt so much more 
comfortable and at home with him that she 
thought there must be a real difference in him. 

It seemed quite a hardship to all three next 
morning that Philip should have to leave on 
the early train to get back to school, but, as 
Philip said, “ Well, I’ve had enough fun, 
anyway. My head would be turned square 
around if I could stay another half day.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A BOY NURSE. 

Mrs. Marshall had been promising Chal- 
mer for a long time that she would visit him at 
Clapham and take Gladys with her. She 
wished to go and see how Lloyd really was 
situated, aside from having him spend each Sun- 
day with her, as he did ; and she also wished to 
see Philip, for Chalmer was so enthusiastic over 
him, and so anxious to have him invited to the 
house, and to have him invited to do a hundred 
and fifty other things during the vacation that she 
wanted to see what sort of a boy he really was. 

So one fine May morning she appeared at 
Clapham with Gladys. 

“ O mamma,” urged Chalmer at once, “ do 
let Gladys stay with Lloyd out in the garden, 
and you come with me first to see Philip,” and 


197 


198 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


they walked down to the pond where Chalmer 
thought they would find his friend. 

“ Philip is splendid, mamma ; he is such a 
favorite ! He has studied the hardest you ever 
saw, and you ought to see him play baseball — 
such a batter ! There he is now ; I can see 
his yellow head ! ” Philip was standing on a 
little pier, giving some orders to a boy in a boat. 
His cap was off, and his golden hair gleamed in 
the sunlight. He had a very masterful air, 
standing there, well braced on his strong, 
straight legs, his shoulders back, his clear voice 
ringing out over the water. 

“ Philip ! Helloa ! Come see my mother ! ” 
shouted Chalmer, and Philip came toward them, 
flushed, smiling, beautiful beyond any boy 
Mrs. Marshall had ever seen. 

“ I am so glad to meet you, dear,” she said 
warmly, won quite over to Chalmer’s opinion. 
“ Chalmer writes about you in every letter, and 
I think I came out to see you as much as to see 
him.” 

They went back to the garden, and a sudden 


A BOY NURSE. 


199 


turn in the path brought them close to Gladys. 
She looked around with a smile, and then her 
glance became fastened on Philip. She flushed, 
her lips parted, but she did not move. 

As for Philip, he felt a tight knot in his 
throat. He seemed to be in London again. 
He felt a nice little hand in his, he heard a 
nice little voice say, 44 Blessed are the pure in 
heart ” — words he had said to himself every 
single day since then. 

44 Gladys,” he said very softly, almost under 
his breath. 

44 Philip,” she said clearly, and then, with a 
bound to her mother, cried, 44 O mamma, mamma, 
it’s Philip ; it’s my Philip ! ” 

44 Well, I never ! ” ejaculated Chalmer. 

Philip started to say two or three things, but 
he couldn’t do it; he looked at Mrs. Marshall, 
as though expecting her to help them out, and 
simply said, 44 Yes, and I never! ” 

Mrs. Marshall was even more surprised than 
the children. She had often thought of and 
spoken of Gladys’ 44 mythical Philip,” as she 


200 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


called him, wondering at the tenacity of the 
child’s faith in him, and at her unwavering de- 
termination to remember him daily in her 
prayers and to wear the lucky farthing, which 
she insisted on regarding as a veritable talisman. 

“ Why, Philip, how can you be Gladys’ 
Philip ? ” she ejaculated. 

“ Oh, he is, mamma ! ” asserted Gladys 
eagerly, seconded by Philip’s no less prompt 
“ I am, truly, I am,” for he had no idea of let- 
ting this little damsel, whose childish face he 
had carried so long in his heart of hearts, slip 
awayjrom him again for lack of assertion on 
his part. 

“ I vow ! ” was Chalmer’s next remark. He 
had been doing a deal of thinking in those few 
seconds. If Philip was Gladys’ Philip, he must 
have been a circus boy when Gladys saw him, 
and from what Gladys had said they had 
decided that her Philip was a youthful lord, at 
least, if not one of the royal family itself. 

A certain cautiousness, which is too often a 
characteristic of American boys in their relations 


A BOY NURSE. 


201 


with their mothers, had prevented Chalmer from 
telling his mother that Philip had ever appeared 
in any other social strata than that in which 
being at Clapham presumably placed him. He 
meant to tell his mother sometime, after she had 
seen Philip herself — for it was too good to 
keep — but he wanted her to see him first with- 
out being prejudiced by any thought of his ever 
having been mixed up with the highly question- 
able associations of a circus, however delightful 
they really were, according to Chalmer’s own 
way of looking at them. 

It was very odd, certainly, and Mrs. Marshall 
was so happily surprised at the turn things had 
taken that she talked more than any one herself, 
and quite overcame Philip with some of her 
questions. 

Lloyd had seen the marked effect of Gladys’ 
appearance on Philip, and he went up to him 
rather timidly, saying in a low tone, “ You 
don’t like her best, do you ? ” 

Philip gave him a reassuring look and won- 
dered for a second if Lloyd were well. Mrs. 


202 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


Marshall began another volley of questions, and 
Lloyd, after lingering a moment, slipped off to 
his room to throw himself on the bed and cry 
his heart out, wondering a little between sobs 
what he had to cry about. 

Just before supper, Gladys, sweet and fresh, 
was standing on the veranda smelling a sprig 
of apple blossoms, and Philip stood by a pillar 
watching her. Chalmer was up in his room with 
his mother. The children had said very little 
to each other, but were just beginning to be re- 
lieved from the strangeness of seeing each other. 

“ I couldn’t believe it was you, Gladys.” 

“Nor I,” was the grave reply. 

“ Do you know, I never could forget that day 
and seeing you. Did you keep the farthing? ” 
with a laugh. 

Gladys promptly pulled a tiny ribbon at her 
neck, and lo — the farthing. 

“ Well, did I ever ! ” said Philip. “ I never 
could forget how nice your hand felt that day. 
It always made me want to be a good boy to 
think of that.” 


A BOY NURSE. 


203 


She looked at him frankly and he at her. 
Just then the principal came to the door. 

44 Philip,” he said hurriedly, 44 Lloyd is very 
ill, has a high fever, and calls for you. Mother 
Cole just found it out.” 

Philip turned and fairly flew up the staircase. 

Lloyd, poor little Lloyd ! he had noticed that 
the little fellow did not look well, and did not 
eat, and seemed nervous. 

Mother Cole was darkening the room and 
making things orderly when Philip entered. 
Lloyd was tossing on the bed and murmuring, 
44 Philip, don’t forget me, Philip. Philip ! oh, 
mamma, mamma ! ” 

The -doctor came and, after working over the 
boy all night, decided that his mother must be 
telegraphed for. There was a hush over the 
whole school. The boys went about the hall 
very quietly, and knew their lessons better than 
usual, and gathered in knots on the sunny side 
of the playground, to tell what they knew. 

“Mother Cole says he’s an awful sick boy.” 

44 Philip can’t leave him.” 


204 


PHILIP LEICESTEK. 


44 Marshall’s mother was with him, but he 
just calls 4 Philip ’ and 4 mamma ’ all the time.” 

44 They telegraphed for Mrs. Leicester.” 

44 They didn’t want to do it. She’s South 
with a relation who is dying, — Mr. Leicester’s 
step-sister, or something.” 

44 1 saw her ! Wasn’t she lovely ? ” 

On the third day after Lloyd was taken sick, 
Mrs. Leicester reached the school. And the 
boys told how pale she was as she stepped out 
of the carriage. The principal and Mother 
Cole met her and walked with her to Lloyd’s 
room. 

44 The physician is full of hope,” said the 
principal encouragingly. 44 The little fellow 
has made a strong fight, but really his recovery 
will be due to Philip. I am glad you have 
come, on Philip’s account. The poor boy is 
almost used up. He hasn’t been able to leave 
Lloyd at all.” 

They softly entered the sickroom. 

44 Philip, Philip, put your hand on my head,” 
were the first words they heard. 


A BOY NUKSE. 


205 


Mrs. Leicester knelt clown by the bed, turning 
the little hot head on her arm. He recognized 
her at once, gave a little sigh, murmured, 
“ Mamma’s come. Philip, you can go play,” 
and fell asleep. 

“ He is all right now, if he sleeps,” said the 
physician, in a tone of the greatest relief ; 
“ and just get this boy to bed, will you ? He 
will be sicker than Lloyd.” He drew on his 
gloves, took his hat, and left, and Mrs. Leices- 
ter lifted her eyes from her little boy’s face to 
look at this Philip. 

As she raised her eyes she saw a pale, beauti- 
ful, boyish face opposite her, gazing at her with 
great eyes that seemed to burn right into her. 

“ Are you Philip ? ” she said, smiling faintly. 

“Are you Lloyd’s mother? ” he said, with- 
out a smile. He couldn’t smile. He felt so 
tired and weary ; and there was no one to hold 
his head, so, or kiss his face, so. Two big 
tears rolled out of his eyes, just for very weari- 
ness, and he turned to leave the room. 

Mrs. Leicester slipped her arm gently from 


206 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


under Lloyd’s head, and as Philip passed her 
she took both his hands, seated herself in a low 
rocking-chair by the bed, drew the boy down 
into her lap, and held him tight to her. 

“ My poor little tired boy. Philip, you have 
done a wonderful thing for me ; they say you 
saved my boy. I must love you all my life for 
that, poor little tired, tired boy; let me love 
you, too, as your own mother does.” 

“ I haven’t any mother,” half sobbed Philip ; 
and, afraid of crying before a lady whose respect 
he longed for with all his soul, he hastily left 
the room. 

As she bent over Lloyd again, anxiously 
watching his breathing, and noting every little 
thing about his face that showed how severe his 
brief illness had been — brain fever, they had 
told her — she saw another face, too, — Philip’s. 
Her heart had leaped in the most unreasonable 
way as she held him in her arms. She longed 
for him, to comfort him, to rest him. The dull 
ache for Philip, her Philip, rolled through her 
with almost unbearable intensity as she sat 


A BOY NURSE. 


207 


there looking at Lloyd. And this Philip, 
Lloyd’s Philip, seemed strangely mixed up with 
it now, inextricably so. Why, in that one 
moment she had held him in her arms she had 
loved him ; and she had noticed everything 
about his face, particularly his eyelashes. They 
were just like Lloyd’s, and Lloyd’s were just 
like his father’s, and her Philip had such won- 
derful eyelashes, just like his father’s; the 
only things that was like his father, so people 
said. 

Her heart was in a tumult, the result of her 
anxious, hurried journey, and of finding Lloyd 
better, but so ill, she thought ; but why that 
constant, wordless prayer to God, that beseech- 
ing she knew not what, that ever-present face 
of the worn-out, beautiful, beautiful boy she 
had held in her arms for just one moment. It 
was hard for her to breathe. She wondered if 
she were to be sick herself. Surely not. She 
would not know how. 

When the nurse came softly in, urging her to 
go into the next room, which had been prepared 


208 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


for her, and rest a little, while Lloyd slept, she 
said she would, but that she must first see that 
tired little boy who had taken care of Lloyd. 

“ He is asleep. His room is at the end of 
the hall.” 

“ Very well ; I will wait,” said Mrs. Leices- 
ter, and, softly, lingeringly kissing Lloyd, she 
went to her room. But she could not help it, 
she went down the hall to the end of the corri- 
dor. The principal came out of the room as 
she reached it. 

“ How is he ? ” she said anxiously. 

“ He doesn’t go to sleep, as he should. He 
seems to be waiting for somebody, and seems 
overstrained. I rather suspect it is you, from 
something he said. Possibly,” hesitatingly, 
“ you could quiet him in a moment, if you are 
not too tired. He is a wonderful boy. He,” 
and the principal smiled, “ looks very much 
more like you than your own little boy does ; 
quite a resemblance, positively.” 

Mrs. Leicester slipped into the room and 
closed the door. Such a bare, white little 

I 


A BOY NURSE. 


209 


room, and Philip was in his narrow little iron, 
white-covered bed; he lay there very quiet, 
with his eyes wide open, looking straight at the 
door, and so at Mrs. Leicester as she came in, 
but as he steadily looked at her, the expression 
of his eyes changed, softened, became satisfied, 
rested. She knelt down beside him, uncon- 
scious almost of what she did or said. “ Oh, my 
Philip, my Philip, my baby, my little boy, my 
darling,” and then she said nothing, and the 
little silver watch Philip held clasped in one 
hot hand ticked steadily on all by itself. 

The hopelessness, the uselessness of what 
she was saying became present to Mrs. Leices- 
ter, to her judgment, but her heart would hear 
none of it. Still, she must say something as 
she looked at the happy, slightly wondering 
little face, so near hers, as she smoothed the 
beautiful hair. Oh, surely that was her baby's 
hair, whether it was possible or not ! 

“You see, Philip,” she said quietly, but so 
lovingly, “ I had a little baby once, and he was 
stolen from me, and I loved him so — O Philip, 


210 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


if you could only understand how I loved him, 
and how we have looked for him, and I can’t 
help it, Philip — I can’t help it — it seems as 
though you were my little baby come back to 
me. I know he would have been just like you. 
If your mother is dead, we must get your 
father to let you come and see us ; we will all 
love you.” 

44 I haven’t any father.” 

Something bound her heart so tight. Yet 
all the time she was thinking that she must 
not excite the boy, she must soothe him. But 
he was so quiet, so happy. All the weariness 
and tenseness seemed to have left him. 

46 Who takes care of you?” she said, with an 
effort. 

“ Miss Joyce got me a scholarship here. She 
is very kind to me. I guess Tony takes care 
of me.” 

44 Are you Miss Joyce’s Philip ? ” . 

He smiled assent. 

44 Haven’t you any family, any relations ? ” 

He shook his head. 44 Only Tony.” 


A BOY NURSE. 


211 


“ Who is Tony ? ” 

“ My brother.” 

A brother ! But her heart would not heed it. 

“ Your real brother ? ” 

“ No, he says he isn’t my real brother.” 

“ Where do you live ?” 

“ Here. I don’t know ; I was with Tony in 
Boston.” 

“ Have you always lived in Boston?” 

“ Only three years, about.” 

“ Where did you live before then ? ” 

“ In London.” 

Now her heart did stop beating, she thought. 
A whole world rising to claim the boy with 
written, signed, and sealed proofs would not 
have moved her an inch. “ My Philip, mine, 
mine, mine!” was all she knew and felt, but 
control was second nature. 

“Go to sleep, my darling — mine,” she 
murmured, and, tumultuously throbbing as she 
was, she waited quietly while the long, dark 
lashes dropped heavily down over the tired, 
happy eyes. 


212 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


Very softly she looked for the odd little 
crease back of his ear, simply to see it once 
more. She was satisfied it was there, as it was. 
She held his hand in hers, and looked at it 
through a blur of tears — precisely like her 
own. The third finger so perfectly shaped, so 
faultless in every particular from knuckle to 
tip, the other fingers all more or less faulty. 
She looked for the one little lock of hair near 
the left ear that always would curl tight, though 
the rest of his hair was only loosely curly. 
There it was, scarcely showing, yet curled as 
tight as its short length would allow. 

It had seemed to her that her life had been 
one prayer since she lost Philip, as though her 
heart had been constantly beseeching God to 
guard Philip, protect him, give him back to her, 
to keep him safely, to give her courage and 
'faith about it, and now it was changed to a 
prayer of thanksgiving, throbbing with love and 
gratitude. Oh, but it was easy to have faith 
now ! 

She could not bear to leave Philip, she was 


A BOY NURSE. 


218 


so afraid something might happen to him. She 
went to the door and looked out. The princi- 
pal was just returning. As he looked at her 
he started. She seemed transfigured. 

“ I am the happiest woman,” she said, in a 
low tone ; “ I have no proof, none at all, but I 
know I have found my lost baby — my little, 
stolen Philip.” 

The principal’s face lit up with sudden 
conviction. “Yes, madam, I know it, too ! 
He’s the image of you ; perfect image of you ! 
Anybody could see it ! ” and he pressed her 
hand warmly. “ This is grand, grand ! We’ll 
have proofs, never fear. Asleep ? ” 

She nodded. 

“ Now, my dear madam, you must rest. 
Lloyd is doing finely, and Mrs. Cole will see to 
Philip. She dotes on the ground he walks on. 
Grand, grand, this is grand ! ” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


A KING AGAIN. 

Philip slept eighteen hours without waking. 
Whenever Lloyd was asleep during that time 
Mrs. Leicester watched beside Philip, absolutely, 
unreasoningly happy. She was perfectly satis- 
fied that Philip was her boy. Whether any 
proofs could be found, whether Mr. Leicester 
would feel as she did about 5 it, nothing troubled 
her for a moment, as she sat and gazed at that 
perfect face. The news had somehow floated 
through the school. The boys accepted the 
theory at once and unhesitatingly. “ Looks just 
like her, doesn’t he ? ” 

“ My, I should think so ! Isn’t she just 
beautiful, though?” 

“ Tes, and I always did think he looked like 
Lloyd, though I could never tell why, — the way 
they’re built, or walk, or something.” 


214 


A KING AGAIN. 


215 


“ Fact ! I told Norton Lloyd was trying to 
copy the way Philip walked, and stood, and all, 
but I guess it was just natural to him, after all.” 

The largest mail that had ever left Clapham 
went out that week. Every boy had to wiite a 
letter home about Lloyd’s brain fever, Philip’s 
watching beside him, Mrs. Leicester’s arrival, 
and her discovery that Philip was her lost baby. 
The receivers of the letters were all completely 
in the dark as to how Mrs. Leicester knew that 
Philip was her boy, and the boys did not know 
themselves, but they were as careless on that 
point and as easily satisfied as Mrs. Leicester 
herself. It seemed eminently fitting and proper 
that he should be her son, and that was enough. 

Philip woke up to find the principal, the 
doctor, and Mother Cole all in his room. 

44 Where is she ? ” he asked at once. 

44 She will be here soon,” said the doctor; 

l 

44 how do you feel, my boy ? ” 

44 Why, I feel all right ; what’s the matter ? ” 
44 You know Lloyd was sick, and his mother 
came ? ” said the principal. 


216 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ Yes, of course I know.” Philip’s face 
flushed deeply. 

“ She was in here. Is it supper-time ? ” 

“ It’s nearer dinner-time,” was the answer, 
while they all laughed. “ It was yesterday 
you went to sleep.” 

“And I didn’t have any supper nor break- 
fast ! My, but I’m starving ! ” 

“You can get up and save yourself from 
starving, I guess.” The doctor had been feel- 
ing his pulse and looking at him. 

“ Why, I’m not sick any, am I ? ” 

“ Sick ? No ; you ought to be, though. You 
are a perfect model ! good-by to you.” 

“Where is she?” Philip asked again of the 
principal. 

“ She is with Lloyd ; you get dressed and you 
will see her if I’m not mistaken.” 

Mother Cole told Mrs. Leicester that Philip 
had wakened. She wished to go to him at 
once, but she waited. He did not know he 
was her boy. She could not prove it to him ; 
he must believe it himself. She must not shock 


A KING AGAIN. 


217 


him. The first fear she had had came into her 
heart ; she could not expect him to believe it 
all at once. She could not expect him to love 
her. Oh, she must be careful. He couldn’t 
feel at all as she did ; it would all seem 
strange to him. fde might not want to believe 
it. She felt faint at the thought. 

“ Lloyd,” she whispered bending near him. 

“ What would you think if I told you I 
thought Philip was our lost Philip — that he 
was your very own brother ? ” 

The boy’s dark eyes looked into hers without 
a shadow of surprise. 

“ Mamma,” he murmured, “ have you found 
it out ? I knew Philip was my Philip. I have 
played it to myself all along. You see, mamma, 
I couldn’t have lived at all away from you 
if it hadn’t been for Philip, but he smiles like 
you, and he feels like you, and he talks like you, 
and I knew it all the time.” 

“ My poor baby, I never ought to have let 
you be away from me a minute ; but we 
might not have found Philip if I hadn’t. 


218 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


Did you ever say anything to Philip about 
it?” 

44 Why, no, mamma ; he didn’t know it.” 

But of course Lloyd hadn’t told anything. 
Lloyd never told any of his dreams, and fancies, 
and queer, strange notions to anybody but her- 
self. 

She decided to take Philip driving in the 
pony phaeton after he had eaten, and to try to 
tell him then, if she could. Her heart almost 
failed her. 

The principal stood waiting with Philip by 
the phaeton for Mrs. Leicester to come. As he 
saw her coming, he held Philip’s hand for a 
moment, and said earnestly : — 

44 God has been very good to you, Philip,” 
and then helped Mrs. Leicester into the 
carriage. She looked only at Philip ; she could 
not help it. It was the first time she had seen 
him since he woke. He was so fresh after his 
bath, and Mother Cole, glad to help in any way, 
however modest, had seen to it that he had on 
his best things, and he wore his clothes with 


A KING AGAIN. 


219 


such an air of distinction, as though they were 
really worth something — which they weren’t 
— and he was so straightforward and manly in 
everything he did, and looked at her with such 
a smile as he stepped in beside her, such a glad, 
confident, trustful sort of a smile, yet appealing, 
too. Oh, such a boy ! 

She did not say anything for awhile, as she 
drove slowly through a shady country road; 
she had meant to talk, to be interesting, to draw 
out the little fellow for awhile. But she could 
not. It was impossible. There was only one 
thing she could talk about, and she was afraid 
to begin. 

“How is Lloyd?” he ventured somewhat 
timidly. 

“ So much better, thank you ; quite out of 
danger.” 

“ I’m so glad. I just love Lloyd more than 
any boy in Clapliam. I love him so that I feel 
funny when I’m with him sometimes, afraid I’ll 
kiss him, or something.” He gave a little 
laugh, but blushed. 


220 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


She looked at him right into his eyes, — those 
beautiful eyes ! How she had kissed them and 
loved them twelve long years ago ! She 
couldn’t help it, and she couldn't speak. He 
seemed fascinated ; he did not try to look away. 
His heart throbbed violently, and his face 
showed it ; for a second it looked as though 
tears stood in his eyes. 

“Philip, did Lloyd ever tell you about his 
brother Philip — my baby, my little one, my 
little lost son ? ” 

“He — he has showed me his picture,” 
Philip faltered. 

Again she could not speak, but was forced 
to look straight into his eyes. 

“ Philip — Philip — that picture was — a 
picture of you ! ” 

Now she had startled him. His lips were 
parted slightly, his face strangely pale ; but his 
eyes never wavered. 

“ O Philip,” she said longingly, insistently, 
“don’t you know I’m your mother? Can’t 
you tell it, don’t you know I have found you 


A KING AGAIN. 


221 


after all these years ? Don’t you know I have 
almost broken my heart longing for you ? Don’t 
you know you have never been out of my 
heart? Don’t you know you were born mine, 
and that no baby ever was loved more than you 
were, or prayed for more, or longed for more ? 
O Philip, don’t you know I’m your mother?” 

The pony was calmly cropping grass from 
the bank beside the road ; the reins lay loosely 
over the dashboard. 

“Are you my mother now?” said Philip 
softly, but so eagerly that Mrs. Leicester’s heart 
gave one bound. Oh, it was all right now. 

“ Philip, O Philip,” and her voice was so 
glad, with such a happy ring and a trace of 
tears in it, too, “ always your mother ; tell me 
so, darling.” 

Quick as a flash, he was on his feet, one 
knee on the phaeton seat, both arms around her, 
strained close to her, his face against hers, 
while he said in the softest, gladdest, sweetest 
voice, “ My mother, my mother, I love you 
with my whole heart, and how glad I am ; my 


222 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


really own mother !” and he turned her face 
up and he looked down into her eyes from his 
vantage ground, and he laughed. Where had 
that rather shy, very deferential little boy gone 
to ? He laughed, the happiest laugh in the 
world, and kissed her of his own accord and 
did it again. 

“ My real mother ? and you’re so beautiful ! 
I thought I never saw any one so beautiful, and 
I wanted you so, I couldn’t stand it, I just 
couldn’t ; why, I was afraid I’d cry. Oh, I’m 
the gladdest boy! but me,” he said doubtfully 
looking down at himself, 44 how do you like me ? ” 

44 Philip ! ” and she laughed, too ; but she 
couldn’t look away from him, not if that miser- 
able pony ate the whole grass crop of Massa- 
chusetts. 

Philip kissed her again. 44 1 couldn’t help 
it,” he said apologetically. 44 1 always did want 
to kiss somebody since my mammy died.” 

Mrs. Leicester started. 44 Who ? ” 

44 My mammy, I just sort of remember her, 
and I remember she used to kiss me.” 



(( 


THIS IS MY MOTHER.” 






A KING AGAIN. 


22 3 


“ Did she die ? ” 

“ Yes, and I went to the funeral. Tony told 
me about that.” 

“Is Tony older ? ” 

“ He is fifteen.” 

“ Has he always known you ? ” 

“ Oh, yes; Tony took care of me.” 

“ Could he tell me anything about you ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed.” 

It seemed so strange, and painful, too, to know 
nothing, absolutely nothing, about her own 
boy. She told him about his first babyhood, 
and about losing him, and the search. She 
held his hand and pointed out the wonderful 
likeness between hers and his, told how funny 
she had thought his one little tight curl was 
when he was a baby, and how surprised she was 
to find he had it yet. 

“ Yes, and Lloyd and I,” began Philip, “ why, 
Lloyd is my brother ! Is he my real brother ? ’ ’ 

“ Yes.” 

“And, why, his father — is Lloyd’s father 
my father, too ? ” 


224 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


44 Yes, your father, and you will love him so ! 
A boy never had a better father than yours, 
Philip ! ” 

“ But Lloyd has a little sister ! ” 

44 So have you. Hazel has prayed for you all 
her life.” 

44 Oh, I can’t believe it I — I just want to 
cry ! ” and Philip ducked his head in her lap 
and began to shake with sobs. 

She liked to have him ; it was a perfect luxury 

— twelve years old and he had never come to 
cry in her lap. 

44 Oh, now I know you won’t like me ! ” he 
said abjectly, raising his head. 44 1 don’t know 
what ailed me. Tony would pound me good 
for that.” 

They drove on finally and talked and talked 

— but it was useless ; the more they talked 
the more muddled things became, and Philip 
was so absurdly happy, and Mrs. - Leicester 
wanted to look at him far more than she wished 
to do anything else. But they must go back. 
Lloyd would be waiting. 


A KING AGAIN. 


225 


It had been rumored among the boys that 
Mrs. Leicester was to tell Philip he was her 
son during that ride, and it had been arranged 
that if they returned during playtime the boys 
were to gather around the carriage drive and 
cheer. . 

Sure enough, when Mrs. Leicester and Philip 
drove up, nearly the whole institution was in 
sight, — principal, boys, and domestics. A 
resounding cheer rang out as the phaeton drove 
up, followed by individual cheers for Mrs. 
Leicester, for Philip, and for Clapham. 

Philip jumped out on the horse block, with- 
out a second’s hesitation, took off his cap, and 
extended his hand to his mother, and, bare- 
headed, straight as an arrow, in his ringing, 
boyish voice that all could hear, called out : — 

“ Boys of Clapham ! this is my mother.” 
Not a studied form of address certainly, but it 
served its purpose, and was met by the wildest 
cheers, while Mrs. Leicester bowed and smiled, 
a very ideal to every boy there, for a month, at 
least, and to many much longer. 


CHAPTER XV. 


ALL TOGETHER. 

Mr. Leicester’s little step-sister had died 
the day Mrs. Leicester was telegraphed on 
Lloyd’s account. Mr. Leicester had remained 
to attend to the funeral, as his sister had ex- 
pressed a desire to be buried there. He and 
Hazel and her nurse were to return to the 
North as soon as everything was all over. 

The very day after Mrs. Leicester had told 
Philip she was his mother she drove to the 
station to meet Mr. Leicester. She was 
keenly aware of how immediately Mr. Lei- 
cester would ask for proof that Philip was 
their boy. If he could only see Philip first, 
talking would he easy. But the talking had to 
come first. 

“ And Lloyd is still improving?” he asked 


226 


ALL TOGETHER. 


227 


eagerly, after the first greeting. 44 How well 
you look ! ” 

44 John,” she said in a low tone, 44 1 have 
found Philip.” 

Pie turned her around suddenly to look better 
at her face. 44 Are you well ? ” he asked 
anxiously. 

44 Is anything the matter ? ” 

44 It is true. I have found Philip, our Philip .” 

44 What makes you think so ? ” 

44 I can’t help thinking so. I know it. 
Whether there is any real proof to be reached, 
I don’t know ; there is something we can find 
out, but I left all that for you. I haven’t tried 
to know how or why — but I say — I tell 
you — our baby is found.” 

44 1 don’t know what you are talking about, 
dear,” tenderly. 44 1 am afraid you are not well. 
Are you ? ” 

44 You will know when you see him yourself. 

I shall tell him you are his father ; he knows all 
about it. O John, I see you don’t understand, 
and I knew you wouldn’t, but you will see him 


228 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


soon, then it will be-all right. I had him go in 
town to bring out two friends of his. I didn’t 
want him here when you came. I wanted to 
see you and talk to you. It is all taken for 
granted at the school. Nobody seems to think 
it could be any other way. Principal Borden is 
as sure as I am.” 

Still Mr. Leicester did not seem to think it 
true for a moment. She knew he was casting 
around in his mind for a way to comfort her 
when she should be convinced of her mistake. 

He saw Lloyd. Lloyd talked unceasingly of 
Philip, and filled Hazel at once with unques- 
tioning faith in his tales of her new brother. 

He saw the principal, and the principal con- 
gratulated him, with unquestionable sincerity 
and gladness, on the discovery of his son, by 
far odds the finest boy he had ever seen in his 
life. 

But it only worried him the more. The mat- 
ter was quite impossible. 

The Leicesters sat in the room that had been 
enthusiastically put at their disposal by the 


ALL TOGETHER. 


229 


principal, as a sitting-room, until the matter 
should be settled. Mrs. Leicester was waiting 
with beating heart, for she knew the train was 
already in that Philip was to return on. She 
kept looking anxiously at Mr. Leicester, who 
seemed to be reading, watching Lloyd and 
Hazel talking together at a window, Lloyd re- 
clining in an easy-chair, when she heard sounds 
suggestive of a new arrival. The principal’s 
voice in welcome, a lady’s voice, probably Miss 
Joyce’s, then a rough boy’s voice, and then a 
clear, ringing, boyish voice, so individual, un- 
forgetable, “ And where is my mother ? ” 

The paper dropped from Mr. Leicester’s hands. 
He seemed electrified, looked suddenly at his 
wife — had she spoken ? — why, no, it was a 
boy’s voice ! 

“ That is Philip,” said she softly. 

Then a quick, firm tread along the lower 
hall, and lightly up the stairs, a pause, then 
that voice again, “ Is Lloyd with my mother, 
Williams?” 

“ Yep.” 


230 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“And, Williams, has my father come?” 

Mr. Leicester sprang to his feet. He leaned 
slightly on the back of his chair, as though to 
steady himself, his eyes gazing with fixed in- 
tensity at the door. 

Two steps at a time, the boy is coming now, 
and now almost at the door, and now, starting 
to say “ O mother,” he enters, but stands still 
- — so beautiful, such a bright, fresh face, such 
an honest, manly little fellow he looked, stand- 
ing there, so glad, so unconsciously appealing, 
for he was looking straight at his father. Why, 
it was his mother’s face, his mother’s hair, his 
mother’s eyes, his mother’s wonderfully winning 
smile. 

Philip had been troubled about his father ; 
he hadn’t ever seen a man he wanted to have 
for his father, though he had never thought 
anything about it until he came to Clapham. 
But it was so different to look at this man, 
with the eyes like Lloyd’s, and the long, long 
eyelashes like his own, and that look that went 
straight through him, just like Lloyd ; and the 


ALL TOGETHER. 


281 


strength of him, the manliness of him ; it was 
so different now ; and his father’s arms were 
stretched out to him, imploringly almost, and 
there was a break in the voice that said, 
“ Come.” 

And Philip went, with a throb in his heart 
and tears in his eyes, and his father picked him 
right up in his arms, great, big boy that he was, 
and held him tight such a long time ; and how 
Philip could feel his heart beat against his until 
it almost frightened him. 

Then his father sat down, but he still kept 
Philip on his knee, with his arm tight around him. 

“Come here, Hazel,” he said quietly, “come 
see your brother Philip,” and Hazel went, shy 
and reluctant, and Lloyd watched her, very 
proud, and anxious to have Hazel move faster. 
Mrs. Leicester stood beside her husband, her 
hand on the back of the chair. 

“You knew, John, didn’t you?” she said 
with a smile, as they looked into each other’s 
eyes, each reading a world of thoughts in the 
others. 


232 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ This is your little sister Hazel, Philip.” 

“ How pretty she is ! ” said Philip bash- 
fully. 

“ You shouldn’t say little girls are pretty,” 
put in Hazel critically; “you should say how 
good she is.” 

They all laughed, and Philip felt quite an 
ecstatic pride in the thought that he had a little 
sister all his very own, who could talk just like 
anybody. 

A sound of voices below floated up. Philip 
seemed to remember something ; he slipped from 
his father’s knee, stood up quite straight, looked 
anxiously from one to the other: “Mother — 
father! There’s Tony — my Tony! Will you 
like Tony ? ” 

“ Anybody, everybody,” said his father 
promptly and fervently ; “ only come back 
here where I can get hold of you.” 

“ Our boy — how can it be ? How did he 
get here? Who has taken care of you ?” 

“ Tony,” said Philip quickly ; “ Tony’s the 
only one that knows.” 


ALL TOGETHER. 


283 


“Well, we must have him right away; is he 
here?” 

“ Yes, he’s downstairs.” 

“ Go bring him — no, don’t you stir a step,” 
holding him tighter. “ Lloyd, you go bring 
him — no, you can’t, you’re not to move. 
Sit down ; you mustn’t stand up another min- 
ute.” 

“ I’ll get him,” said Philip hastily, and, wrig- 
gling out from his father’s grasp, he vanished 
like a shot, to bring back a boy who nearly 
paralyzed both Mr. and Mrs. Leicester. A 
short, shock-headed, wide-mouthed, slouching 
sort of a boy, and with the greatest pride of 
tone and expression Philip said, “ This is 
Tony.” 

“ How do,” said Tony easily, without waiting 
to be spoken to ; “ how’d you know he’s 

your’n ? ” he looked at Mr. Leicester, and Mr. 
Leicester felt that the little wretch had cornered 
him, to start with. 

Philip had told Tony about his newly found 


284 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


mother that very morning when Mrs. Leicester 
had sent him in to bring out Tony and Miss 
Joyce, if possible. 

“ And she’s good looking, is she, Poke ? ” 
asked Tony, after Philip’s first outburst. 

“ Oh, my, Tony, beautiful ! You never did 
see anything like her ! ” 

“ Oh, I never did, did I ? ” incredulously, eye- 
ing Philip from top to toe. “ Come off. Rich, 
too?” 

“Why, yes. I guess so. I don’t know.” 

“ Got a boy, too, have they, you say? ” 

“Yes, Lloyd; such a nice little boy.” 

“ Oh, to be sure ; and they want you. They 
aint the first that’s wanted you ! Does he 
look any like you ? ” 

“Oh, no; he is a handsome little boy; 
dark — ” 

“And you aint handsome, I s’pose,” with a 
snort ; “ course not ! What made her think 
you were her boy? ” 

“ Why, she lost hers.” 

“ Oh ! Why aint I her boy, then ? ’ ’ 


ALL TOGETHER. 


235 


Philip just shouted with laughter; that 
seemed too funny for words. 

“ And she remembered that kink in my hair.” 

“ Oh, you’re the only boy with a cowlick, I 
suppose ! Yah ! ” 

“ And the funny creases back of my ears are 
like Lloyd’s.” 

“ Hear him ! every Scot’s born with a crease 
back of his ears ; it’s the way they make ’em.” 

“ O Tony, is that so ? ” anxiously. 

“ Well, I guess it’s so ; what else ? ” 

“ My hands are like hers.” 

“ Sho ! mine’s got four fingers and a thumb, 
too, so fur’s ever I counted ! Any more smart- 
ness she’s been gettin’ off ? ” 

“ You’ll hear all about it when you get there, 
Tony,” was the easy, contented answer. Any- 
thing Tony said was all right to Philip. 

“ See here, Poke,” and Tony fiercely pinned 
Philip by his shoulders to the wall. 

“ What you mean now ? You going to take 
up with these highflyers, jest cause they can 
talk? You goin’ to leave me — you and me 


236 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


always bein’ everything to each other lang 
syne, lads thegither, all the warl til ane anither, 
here far frae our ain countree ? ” 

“ Stop, Tony,” broke in Philip. “ I wouldn’t 
leave you for anything. All it amounts to is 
your finding folks same as me ; my home is 
your home.” 

“Oh, is it? Don’t be a fool! look at me. 
What did Miss Joyce think of me ? Didn’t 
she want to get you from me, and keep at it 
till she did ? Now I’ve turned over and mean 
to do right — she kind and good to me, and 
all that, and as good a friend as a fellar ever 
had — does she think I’m fit friend for you? 
No, she don’t ! ” 

“ Oh, fiddlesticks ! ” 

“ And look at me — just look at me once. 
I don’t believe you’re these folkses’ boy no more 
than nothing. She’s took to you ’count of 
your looks. Miss Joyce did, Sally Lamon there 
at Hart’s did, everybody does — ’bout drove 
my father crazy hidin’ you — and do you think 
she’s goin to take to me ’count o’ my looks ? 


ALL TOGETHER. 


23T 


Well, I don’t. She’ll say, 4 Oh, howhomebly! 
how bad ! how shocking ! My darling child, you 
mustn’t have any more to do with such a wicked 
boy ! I’m afraid he says naughty words and 
tells stories ! Play with your dear little angel 
brother ! ’ ” Tony was mimicking a woman 
who had once rebuked him for saying 44 dam 
it ” on the street, to his unending amusement, 
and Philip was giggling, in spite of himself. 

44 Now, I tell you, if you take up with them, 
they’ll make you throw me overboard. Now I 
ain’t goin’ to the dogs, and I ain’t goin’ to 
smokin’, nor drinkin', nor gambling, nor general 
badness if you do. I ain’t. Pm goin’ to make 
a man of myself, if I can, ’s long as Christ died 
to save me, and is willin’ to lend me a helpin’ 
hand to be decent ; but, Philip, I just don’t 
know how I can stand it and live if you slip 
away from me ! ” 

There was a world of feeling in his rough 
voice, and Philip, squirming free from his grasp, 
threw his arms around his neck and gave him 
a tremendous hug. 


238 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ You just come out and see what happens,” 
he said quietly ; but he felt misgivings he had 
not felt before. 

And now Tony was here before Mr. Leicester, 
not feeling prepared to admit his claim with 
much good-will. 

“ How’d you know he’s your’n ? ” he said. 

“ That is one of the things we want your 
help about,” Mr. Leicester answered, genially, 
if somewhat evasively. Mrs. Leicester had 
risen and gone towards Tony. She had not 
had time to talk so very much with Philip, 
or to find out very much about him. She 
had done little more than look at him, and 
love him, and be thankful ; but in all he had 
said Tony stood forth prominently and pre- 
eminently. Tony, Tony, Tony. Tony had 
taken care of him, taught him, fought for him, 
shielded him, nursed him ; Tony had been all 
he had. 

She had felt her heart warm extravagantly 
toward this boyish hero of Philip’s, whoever he 


ALL TOGETHER. 


239 


was. She could love the whole world, now 
her boy was back, and she longed to show her 
gratitude to any and all who had befriended her 
little lost boy. She felt from what Philip had 
said that this Tony had been godsent ; he had 
been God’s loving message in answer to her 
prayers. And now she saw him, — that rather 
ill-favored, stunted, rough boy in the door- 
way. But she did not see him as other people 
would have done ; it seemed as though she saw 
him through Philip’s eyes. That boy, that little 
boy, for he really wasn’t very much taller and 
heavier than Philip, though he looked older, 
had spent himself for Philip, had kept him, 
while she was away from him, useless, doing 
nothing ; to her, as to Philip, the blue eyes held 
a world of kindness, the wide mouth spoke of 
self-sacrifice, the square chin looked honest, the 
ill-favoredness and crudeness only suggested a 
lack of everything a childhood ought to have 
that was fairly pitiful, and made her heart ache. 

She went swiftly toward him ; he turned to 
see her for the first time since he entered, and. 


240 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


as through a mist in his astonishment, he saw a 
beautiful face beside him, so like Philip’s, a 
smile — Philip’s smile — felt his hands held in 
both hers, heard her voice — Philip’s voice — 
so kind, so low, so sweet. 

“And is this Tony — Philip’s Tony? my 
Tony, too, now ! It will take me a long time, 
Tony, all the rest of our lives, I think, for you 
are to be my boy now, Tony, just like Philip, 
to hear all you have done and been to him, and 
to thank you for it all, and love you for it all. 
Don’t mind, Tony, I can’t help it! I do love 
you so, for Philip’s sake,” and she kissed him 
on the forehead ; and, metaphorically speaking, 
he sank through the floor. Philip was in a 
perfect ecstasy of delight ; he had secured one 
of Tony’s hands and was squeezing it enthu- 
siastically, knowing very well that Tony would 
need all the support he could get, moral and 
otherwise, to live through the ordeal. ' And his 
mother had kissed him. Philip gave a little 
squeal, not wholly free from malice, as he 
thought what Tony was enduring. 


ALL TOGETHER. 


241 


“ There , Tony ! ” lie ejaculated. 

“ Here am I, Tony,” said Hazel, entering the 
conflict. 44 I*m Hazel, Tony ! ” 

4 4 Bless my stars,” ejaculated Tony, looking 
down at the brown-haired, brown-eyed, pink- 
cheeked, little damsel, 44 ef you aint the nicest 
little thing ! ” 

44 There,” said Hazel, very much pleased, 
44 he is a nice boy, and talks betterer than you, 
Philip.” 

44 I’m your brother Lloyd, Tony,” said Lloyd, 
who had left his easy-chair again, contrary to 
orders, and who was desperately mixed up now 
by his new family connections, 44 and is it so 
that you can turn a double somersault, and can 
you really walk a tight rope, and is it a true 
fact that you can climb a pole balanced on a 
man’s foot, or was Philip lying when he said 
so?” 

44 1 have done ’em all,” said Tony modestly, 
mightily thankful to be on his own ground once 
more, and still not daring to look at Mrs. 
Leicester, and still red to the roots of his hair ; 


242 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ but it takes constant practice, and I aint been 
show actin’ and tumblin’ for five months and 
over.” 

“ Oh ! ” sighed Lloyd, “ I hope you’ll begin 
to practise up as soon as we get home.” 

“Well, Tony, my boy,” said Mr. Leicester, 
who had had time to form a plan, “ shake hands, 
and take a seat ; and we want you to do the 
talking, and tell us all you know about Philip. 
We are depending on you entirely, for Philip 
tells us ” — guessing somewhat in the dark — 
“ that you know whatever there is to know. 
That’s right, sit down. Lloyd, don’t get up 
again ; you will be sick. Philip looks like his 
mother, doesn’t he, Tony? ” 

Mr. Leicester wanted to see if Tony were 
still belligerent, and meant to assail him again 
with, “ How’d you know he’s yourn ? ” 

“ Yes, he does, sure’s fate,” said Tony, with 
a sigh of conviction, stealing a look at Mrs. 
Leicester, but blushing violently again when he 
saw she was also looking at him. “ You see,” 
he said, in a confidential and reminiscent tone, 


ALL TOGETHER. 


243 


“ she’s the one. When Philip here told me 
he’d found his mother, or she'd found him, I 
just set to worrying and worrying about it, and 
I found somehow down inside of me, way back, 
I had sort o’ picked out a mother fur him 
already. Some way, nobody thought Sal was his 
mammy, leastways a woman told me so, and 
Ivempton said she hadn’t no right to him ; but 
that wouldn’t count, ’cause he always lied, any- 
way. But once a lady and you,” calmly, as he 
looked at Mr. Leicester, and became convinced 
of his identity, “ came lookin’ fur Philip to our 
show, and I see her, and I looked and looked ; 
and I didn’t think such a terrible lot about it 
then, but I couldn’t never forget her face, bein’ 
so beautiful, sonsie, and a’ that ; her face, you 
know,” with a jerk of his head sideways toward 
Mrs. Leicester ; “ and it was always cornin’ up 
in my mind, and I’d always think of it side of 
Poke’s, and sometimes they would seem just 
alike to me, so’st I was mixed up, as Poke got 
bigger, and I didn’t never forget wholly about 
her face. And so, when Philip told me this 


244 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


morning he’d found his mother, or somebody ’d 
told him she was his mother, I got to worrying 
about it, and I kept seein’ this beautiful face, 
and worryin’ about it, and I says to myself : 
4 That there beautiful lady was his mother, if 
he ever had any, and she’s wearyin’ for to him 
this day, and this new one just wants him ’cause 
he’s so good looking, same as people always has 
wanted him, and I don’t believe no word of 
this, and I’ll knock their talk higher’n kites 
askin’ questions, and let Poke see he’s bein’ 
took in, and then I’ll tell him about this beauti- 
ful lady — he see her same’s me, only he was so 
little — and I’ll take him the world over till we 
find her, if he’s determined to have a mother.’ 
And it’s her” looking at Mrs. Leicester slowly 
and searchingly, 44 it’s her. I been seeing her 
face since I was nine years old.” 

The Leicesters followed his narration with 
breathless interest. 

44 Were we alone ?” inquired Mr. Leicester. 

44 Little fellar in petticoats or girl along with 
you.” 


ALL TOGETHER. 


245 


“ Where were you ? ” 

“ Out back the tent, with Poke, flat on the 
ground, lookin’ through the flap. Ivempton 
threw something at us to keep us quiet.” 

A look of anguish crossed Mr. Leicester’s 
face. Seven years ago they had been so near 
success, and never dreamed it ! 

“ Don’t, don’t, John ; we have him now ! ” 
begged Mrs. Leicester. 

“ And you are sure now that Mrs. Leicester 
is Philip’s mother?” 

“Yep,” said Tony gloomily, “I jis’ feel sure, 
and I ain’t pinin’ to, neither. But you can’t 
help your feelin’s, so far’s I know. When you’re 
sure, you’re sure, and she’s the one.” 

“ Who was his — mammy — Sal, you called 
her?” 

“ Well, she was Sal. She was sort o’ 
crazy.” 

“ How old was he when she died ? Was she 
kind to him ?” 

“ Oh, losh, yes — there, now, I done it agin — 
why, she just lived fer to coddle him, and kiss 


246 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


him, different from anybody else in the Cow- 
gate.” 

“ Where was her husband? ” 

“Why, she didn’t have no husband. She 
lived her lane ; I been in the room.” 

“ What became of her ? ” 

“ Oh, she died. Poke was along about four, I 
guess.” 

“And I went to the funeral, back of the 
wagon,” put in Philip sadly. “ I remember, and 
I had some black on my sleeve, and I cried.” 

“ Why didn’t you think she was his mother ? ” 
“ Oh, I didn’t think anything about it, only 
Jeanie McDougall, she couldna thole my father, 
and when he took Philip for his show, she took 
me in her house and tellt me I was eight years 
old, and maist grown, and if I’d hearken to her 
wi a’ my lugs, she’d gimme a jumble. She set 
me down hard on the table and stood lookin’ at 
me. She said she didna like Philip to go with 
my father, but she was poor and couldna keep 
it, and that I was aye to look after him ; and 
she said I needna think Sal was his real mammy, 


ALL TOGETHER. 


247 


for she wasna, that Sal had a baby, a sickly 
bairn, and it died lang syne, and she said Philip 
was four, and I was to remember. And then 
she gimme the jumble, and I remember it a’ now, 
but I didna think mickle aboot it alang that 
time.” 

“ Why do you talk such a funny way ? ” 
asked Hazel. 

“ My way of talkin’ never did suit nobody,” 
said Tony frankly. “ My folks was Lonnuners, 
and I talked some like them ; didn’t use no h’s 
when I should, and throwed ’em in by the barrel 
when I shouldn’t ; and I picked up Scotch talk 
a-plenty in the street, and more Cockney when 
I lived in London, and I talk American bully 
now I’m here, when I tries hard. Now, Philip, 
he always was different ; no matter what he said 
sounded different. Sal, she didn’t talk Scotch. 
She was brought up servant in an English lord’s 
family, Jeanie McDougall tellt me, and he 
talked some like her, and when he came here he 
talked American right straight, natural as no- 
thing.” 


248 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


They plied Tony with questions, which he 
answered in such a keen, shrewd way that Mr. 
Leicester began to have quite an admiration for 
him, until Mrs. Leicester asked Philip to bring 
Miss Joyce. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A PLACE FOR TONY. 

Mrss Joyce had been meditating deeply on 
the turn affairs had taken, and when Philip 
proudly escorted her in and she met Mrs. 
Leicester, she said fervently, “ So you are his 
mother ! Of course ; that explains every- 
thing, and my theories have been completely 
upset ever since I first saw him ! ” 

Every one laughed at her tragic manner, and 
Mr. Leicester inquired gravely, while shaking 
hands with her, “ And do you think Philip is 
Mrs. Leicester’s son ? ” 

“ Oh, I know it,” she said in a tone of 
absolute conviction. “ Why, just look at him 
— at her. Oh, that settles everything for me ! 
I certainly shall not lose any more nights’ sleep 
wondering how Philip could be explained ! ” 


249 


250 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


She gave an outline of her meeting with 
Philip, and, turning to Mrs. Leicester, said in an 
aside, “ I’ll tell you more about it all when 
Philip isn’t here. I simply haven’t the face 
to say what I have thought of him before 
him.” 

“ And so Miss Joyce’s Philip is my Philip. 
I can’t believe it ! I remember so well the day 
Miss Mackenzie first mentioned you, and I 
wished — so bitterly — that Philip had been 
lost in this country, where he might have the 
chance of being one of your boys ! Oh, God 
has been so good, so unspeakably good ! Philip 
seems like a good boy?” she hesitated 
anxiously. 

Miss Joyce impulsively pressed her hand. 

“ The best, the very best boy on earth ! I 
never have been able to understand it until to- 
day ! ” 

Mr. Leicester and the boys had been talking to- 
gether, but stopped to listen, and Mrs. Leicester 
went on, “ That very same day little Gladys 
Marshall told me all about her Philip, some 


A PLACE FOR TONY. 


251 


little peer of England, I should judge from her 
description.” 

44 Why, mother. I'm Gladys’ Philip ! ” put 
in Philip. 44 1 took her home that day in 
London, and, oh,” with a sudden lighting up 
of his face, 44 slie said a lady she knew lived 
in that very house, who lost her baby. Wasn’t 
it you? Wasn’t I the one? Oh!” 

There was a silence for a few moments and 
then Mrs. Leicester said, 44 1 heard of one 
Philip, however, in the South, who was someone 
else, and he was very nice, too,” smiling. 

44 Tell us about it.” 

44 Down in Charleston, about the first of 
March, I think, I was repeating 4 Philip, My 
King,’ to Hazel in the park, and a young sailor 
heard me. He seemed very much interested and 
asked me some questions about it. He told 
me that a fellow-sailor of his had a friend 
named Philip.” 

44 Did he tell you his name ? ” asked Tony. 

44 1 asked him, and I think he said Jack Lud- 


low.” 


252 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


“ To be sure, Jack Ludlow ! I knowed it,” 
said Tony excitedly. “You know Jack Lud- 
low, Poke, sailed with me in the ‘ Queen,’ 
and a strappin’ nice fellar he was, too. Works 
long side of me now in the machine-shop. I’m 
the other one,” turning to Mrs. Leicester. 
“Philip’s my friend.” 

“ O John, to think of it, all these years, and 
we have been hearing about him at every turn ! ” 

Mr. Leicester had been actively concocting 
a plan, and now he developed it. “ Of course, 
he said, “ it is all very well that we should be 
satisfied that Philip is our boy, but for our 
sakes, and his sake hereafter, this matter must 
be settled, if it possibly can be, and I think it 
can be. I am going straight to England and 
to Scotland, and I mean to take Tony here with 
me,” looking steadily at Tony, while he started. 
“ Yes, Tony, you are the very one. ■ We will 
unravel this mystery together; and you can 
take me over the whole ground where you and 
Philip have been, and you can help me in a 
thousand ways. In fact, I couldn’t get along 


A PLACE FOR TONY. 


253 


without you. We will make a man of Philip, 
you and I, Tony.” 

And Tony seemed like a new boy from that 
moment on. He was to be of use. He was to 
help. He was still to work for Philip. He 
was to be treated like somebody honest and 
decent, and he vowed by all that was good that 
he would be worthy of it, and act worthy of 
it, and that he would try to improve in all sorts 
of ways, for Philip’s sake, as well as try to do 
what was right. He felt better and he showed 
it. His face looked more open and hopeful, he 
stood straighter, and showed more of his better 
qualities. 

Later, after Mr. Leicester had gone, taking 
Tony with him as aide de camp , to open up the 
house, and Miss Joyce had gone back to Brook- 
line, having arranged a speedy meeting with 
Mrs. Leicester, and Lloyd was asleep, and 
Hazel had gone to bed, Mrs. Leicester and 
Philip sat in the cosey bay window, not very 
far from the bright open fire, talking. It was 
the quietest, best chance to talk they had had. 


254 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


Philip sat on a hassock near his mother’s easy- 
chair, holding her hand, and kissing it some- 
times, while sometimes she disengaged it to 
smooth his hair. 

“ I know since you have been here at Clap- 
ham, Philip,” she said slowly, “ that you have 
been told about your Saviour, and His love for 
you and all of us, but everything was so new 
to you, have you had time to think about it, to 
realize it, to pray, to care ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, mother, I always cared,” he said 
simply. 

“ But you didn’t know, did you, no one ever 
taught you ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; Tony taught me.” 

Tony, well, no; she could hardly believe 
Tony’s teaching had gone that far. 

“ But do you understand me?” 

“ Yes, truly. Tony is a Christian, mother. 
Why, Tony is the best boy you ever saw ! I 
never knew such a good boy as Tony. I’ll 
never, never be so good as Tony.” 

Mrs. Leicester privately thought she would 


A PLACE FOR TONY. 


255 


be willing to take her chances on that, but went 
on : — 

“ Before you came to Clapham ? ” 

44 No-o-o. It is since I came to Clapham 
that he’s a real Christian ; but — but — he was 
a dreadful good boy before that.” 

44 And did he teach you about our dear Lord 
and Heavenly Father? ” 

44 Yes, mother,” loyally ; 44 but, mother, you 
know Tony didn’t always get things quite — 
right — mother. But he told me all he knew, 
and he taught me to pray, mother, and he 
taught me about Jesus. Truly, he did! ” 

He did hope his mother wouldn’t ask him 
just what Tony had taught him, or just how he 
was taught to pray ; but his mother did not 
think to ask. It seemed wonderful that he 
should have been taught at all. A thousand 
times more so when she learned later what she 
did not dream of then, the kind of life Philip 
had led, the people he had known, the indecency, 
the wickedness, the badness of Tony, and 
every one else he knew. That the three Hebrew 


256 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


children had walked through the fiery furnace 
unharmed seemed not so strange, but their sal- 
vation was that fourth One who walked with 
them, and surely He had walked beside her 
boy through the years of his wandering. Why 
had he not been harmed more ? He thought he 
had been very wicked; he told her with tears 
of some things, but in the very telling he only 
showed the clearer the purity, the reasonable 
rightness of his heart, his desire after truth. 

“ And was it easy, Philip, to love our Lord, 
to want to serve Him, to love God?” 

“ Yes. I just wanted to right off. I couldn’t 
help it,” with a troubled look. “ I am afraid 
I’m not smart, or that I don’t understand, some- 
times, for it is so easy, and I can’t help loving 
God. It seems so wonderful to think of His 
being what He is, God ; and caring so for us, 
guarding us, and all ; and giving His Son for 
us, and so wonderful to think of Christ on 
earth, and dying for us, and knowing us all, 
loving us ; and He seems so near, and I love 
Him so when I’m all alone. And it worries me, 


A PLACE FOP TONY. 


257 


mother, for Tony doesn’t feel so. Now he is a 
Christian, and means to follow Christ, and do 
as He says, and he thinks such funny things 
about God — just as though he was a police- 
man or somebody like that, and it is such hard 
work for him to pray, except just sometimes 
when he feels like it, and it is so awfully hard 
for him to do right, or to want to. That makes 
his doing it all the better, you know,” hastily ; 
44 and he thinks such curious things about Jesus 
Christ, and everything about it seems hard, and 
he feels lots more at home with the devil — talk- 
ing and thinking about him, you know — than he 
does with our Lord. And I’m afraid he is right 
about it, and understands better than I, for it 
doesn’t seem right that a little, real bad, igno- 
rant boy like me should find it all so plain and 
easy, and happy, and nice. Mother, you’ll 
teach me the right way, won’t you ? ” 

But Mrs. Leicester, smoothing the fair hair, 
and caressing the soft cheeks, could only feel 
that she was the one to learn of him. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THANKSGIVING. 

The next Thanksgiving Day was a thanks- 
giving day never to be forgotten in one 
household. The table at the Leicesters’ had to 
have a good many extra leaves put in that day. 
There were Mr. and Mrs. Leicester, Philip, 
Lloyd, Hazel, and Tony, and the six little 
Londoners from their farm homes. All but one 
had grown to be sturdy, stout little fellows. 
Irving was a very delicate boy, and the last one, 
Peter, had not been over long enough to have 
been very greatly modified. 

The story that had been told every- year was 
told again, but with such a different ending. 

Mr. Leicester had been in England and 
Scotland all summer with Tony. One very 
visible result of the trip was Tony’s enthusiastic 

258 


THANKSGIVING. 


259 


admiration of Mr. Leicester and Mr. Leicester’s 
thorough liking for Tony. The being with a 
real man had meant nearly everything for Tony. 
He had been with Mr. Leicester constantly, 
associated with him as a companion in a search 
of absorbing interest to him, and not merely as 
a subordinate, and a very hard one at that, as 
when he was with Captain Bradley. His 
language and manners had been much improved, 
and he looked at everything differently ; his 
ideas had changed, and he was more in touch 
with his surroundings. On their return to 
Boston, he had gone back at once to the 
machine-shop where he had been working when 
Philip found his family. He only spent Sun- 
days with the Leicesters, but he felt that they 
were his family, and that his success was a 
matter of the greatest importance to all of 
them. He showed such skill and zeal in all 
his work in the machine-shop that Mr. Leices- 
ter was hoping he would become ambitious 
and desire a thorough school-training in ma- 
chinery. 


260 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


In regard to retracing Philip’s career Mr. 
Leicester had been more successful than he had 
at all hoped. 

They found the Jean MacDougall Tony re- 
membered, and she was able to supply several 
clues. She had known “ Sal ” since before she 
had lost her mind or her baby. She said she 
had come from London, and that her baby died 
in the very room where she afterwards brought 
Philip. The baby’s father was an Englishman 
named Philip Ormstead, and after the baby’s 
death she wandered back to London again, 
though not before the death of Philip Ormstead 
himself. Four years later she appeared again 
to Jean MacDougall with a very beautiful 
baby, re-installed herself in her old room, and 
lived there until he was about four years old, 
when she died. Jean MacDougall said that 
“ Sal ” was very weak-minded, and thought this 
second child whom she called Philip was Philip 
Ormstead’s son and her own baby, who had died 
four years before her return. Jean could tell 
where she had lived in London, and even the 


THANKSGIVING. 


261 


names of certain poor people there who had be- 
friended her. 

They found two women in London who re- 
membered her perfectly, and who readily placed 
her disappearance at about the time Philip was 
lost ; and they found a young man who said he 
remembered her very well, for she had often 
given him things to eat, and, as a very impor- 
tant piece of information, remembered that she 
came to him one day carrying a baby, and she 
gave him a piece of written paper with a ring in 
it and sent him to a house in Berkely Square. 
There, after a long delay, he was given a small 
box to carry back. He thought from the feeling 
that it had money in it, but he liked Halfwit 
Sal and did not open it. He remembered that 
she took the box very eagerly, and opened it, 
and gave him a half crown, which he went off 
at once to spend, while she went in the opposite 
direction with the baby under her shawl. He 
got the crown on the day that they laid the 
corner-stone of a church on the next street, for 
he stood and watched ' it, holding the change 


262 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


left after getting the best dinner he had ever 
had in his life. Investigation showed that the 
corner-stone was laid on the day Philip was 
stolen. 

Mr. Leicester arranged his proofs to suit his 
legal mind so as to be prepared for any emer- 
gency that might arise, and returned to the 
United States abundantly satisfied with the 
success of his efforts. 

That evening, after the little Londoners, 
loaded with presents, and feeling mightily 
puffed up, both physically and mentally, had 
been despatched to their various homes, Miss 
Joyce and the Marshalls all drove up. And such 
an evening as they spent. The walls rang with 
the fun the children had. They were all so 
different, those children. 

Chaim er was a typical American boy, strong, 
well, active, independent, a good deal of a 
tease, highly satisfied with himself, his opinions, 
and everything else that was his, yet, withal, an 
honest, nice sort of a boy, and a credit to his 
family. Tony, just himself still, though 


THANKSGIVING. 


2G3 


rounded off and toned down, hugely enjoying 
the fun, but rather waiting to be assigned parts 
in it all, for that sort of a good time was a 
revelation to him when he first saw it in the 
Leicester home. Lloyd, very sensitive, in- 
tensely affectionate, of a quiet, reticent turn of 
mind, yet with fits of excitement and love of 
amusement. Gladys such a bright, self-Avilled, 
loving, warm-hearted little soul. Hazel so 
quaint, and funny, and contented, and generous, 
and old fashioned. And Philip — Philip man- 
aged everything, even Chaim er. Philip never 
seemed to think of himself at all, was just 
straightforward and square, quick to see all 
that was going on, with the happiest sort of a 
disposition, seeing the fun in everything, and a 
master hand at being first, but always to the satis- 
faction of every one concerned. He seemed to be 
the heart of all the life there, and it did seem as 
though he never forgot his mother a moment — 
a glance, a smile, going near her for a second — 
something all the time — in a way that seemed 
as natural and necessary as for him to breathe. 


264 


PHILIP LEICESTER. 


44 Why do you suppose it was? Why was it 
permitted ? ” said Mrs. Marshall meditatively, 
as they watched the children. “ Why was it, 
Mr. Leicester ? What do you think, Mrs. Lei- 
cester? Why should you have been without 
him all these years ? ” 

There was a pause and then Mrs. Leicester 
said, 44 How should I know ? It’s easy to 
believe now — with Philip before me — better 
— more every way than I could possibly have 
helped, even if I had had him all the time — it 
is easy to believe it was all right, that there 
must be some gain somewhere to someone; 
that it was permitted because it was right to 
permit it ; but I am the worst Christian ; I have 
so little faith. It does seem as though I wanted 
to see everything with my eyes, and feel every- 
thing with my hands. I can’t think of any 
good that we can know about it, unless it is 
some good to his own character, or some good 
to our poor, dear, little Londoners. I am sure 
they have profited by it, and perhaps some one of 
them the Lord has dedicated to a great work.” 


PELOUBET’S SELECT NOTES. 


This commentary on the International Sunday-School 
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For sale by all Booksellers. 


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SUNDAY-SCHOOL LIBRARY BOOKS 

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Airline. The Catcher of the Comets. 

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SUNDAY-SCHOOL LIBRARY BOOKS 


FOR THE PRIMARY OR INFANT GRADES. 


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3 


SPECIAL SONGS AND SERVICES 

FOR PRIMARY AND INTERMEDIATE CLASSES, 

JUNIOR ENDEAVOR SOCIETIES, ETC. 


Compiled by Mrs. M. G. KENNEDY. 

This book contains Exercises for Christmas, Easter, Children’s Day, 
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SONGS, Old and New. No. 1. 

Arranged by Rev. T. C. PEASE. 

{Late Professor at Andover Seminary.') 

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Price, 10 Cents Each ; $10 Per Hundred. 

PUBLISHED BY 

V 

W. A. WILDE & CO., Boston, Mass. 


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